


behind the curtain

by resurrectdead



Category: Amazingphil - Fandom, Danisnotonfire - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Banter, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Dirty Talk, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Feminization, Grinding, M/M, Makeup, Makeup Sex, Mutual Pining, Pastel Dan, Pining, Praise Kink, Punk Phil, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Teen Crush, Teenagers, blowjob, falling in love over the course of a week, lots of mad bants seriously, oh and a being called a girl kink? dunno lol, pastel!dan, punk!phil, that's the word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-25 18:57:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10770384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resurrectdead/pseuds/resurrectdead
Summary: “This is great,” Phil muses to himself. He chucks the sponge - erm, beauty blender? - onto the desk. “Right, now to concealer. Not that you need any, because your skin is like, actually so flawless.”He digs around and finds a sheer stick, and thankfully it’s not fingers this time either, but a small applicator. Dan can deal with that. He can deal with feeling Phil’s heat and sweet boyish scent.His touch? Not so much.Or: Dan adores pink and is playing Satine in the school production of Moulin Rouge. Phil cherishes black and just happens to be good at doing some bombass makeup. Fate brings them together.





	1. use your hands and my spare time

**Author's Note:**

> It's funny curly-haired pastel Dan used to be but an unattainable dream and now it's like. There he is. Out and about, rocking them curls and the sparkly nail varnish and pink cherry blossom jumpers.
> 
> But I'm still posting this, Daniel. Maybe he'll wear makeup one of these days too, if I just beliiieeeeeevee.....

“Who in here does a guy have to suck off to get some decent makeup done?!”

And other sentences Dan Howell thought he’d never speak.

It’s one week until their premiere of Moulin Rouge, one week until their wardrobe needs to be fixed and their stage makeup fleeked, and Dan of course is months behind with all of this. He was crazy for it to start with, having taken part of the writing ever since the moment it came into conversation to set it up as a play at their school, sure he knew just about every single line from the movie by heart as he’d been watching it pretty much non-stop since he was around ten years old. But now? Now he’s been so consumed by making others do their shit correctly, he’s completely forgotten that he, of course, will play Satine the courtesan, the main female role and he, of course, needs some bombass makeup to go with it.

Because, honestly? Fuck gender roles. But also, honestly? He wants to at least get some good lipstick on.

Louise pulls a face like she’s simultaneously embarrassed and amused, and Dan’s left standing with his arms thrown out by his sides, hysterical. 

“Maybe keep your voice down, chummy?” she suggests in a hushed voice. “Can I remind you you’re not _actually_ a courtesan?”

Dan stares her down for a second, then shifts his gaze to PJ. PJ is a logical being, PJ should help. But PJ just holds his hands up in defence and makes a face like don’t-look-at-me(-I’m-dumb, Dan adds mentally in a stupid voice), so that Dan is rendered helpless, just has to throw his head back and groan desperately.

He can tell this is when Louise and PJ exchange looks, try to figure out what to do as Dan stands there, waiting, eyes fixed at the ceiling and nearly holding his breath in protest too. Then comes Louise’s reassuring hand on his shoulder, then comes PJ’s “there, there”. Dan has good friends. Dan needs to stop throwing diva tantrums. 

“Have you asked Phil?” Louise asks him then, and Dan lolls his head towards her instead, brow furrowed. 

“Phil…?”

“Lester,” PJ fills in, and Dan turns to him. “We take art. He’s great, really nice guy and super creative. I’m sure he’d be good at makeup, too.”

Dan turns his head between Louise and PJ on either side of him. He’s never heard of the name, but he’s sure he’d know him if he saw him. He must only be a year older if he’s in PJ’s class and besides, if he’s not any good, he can just find someone better. Dan is a people person and if not, he knows his ways around it.

He feels like the auditorium has gone too quiet, eochy and boring, so he stomps his feet around like a grumpy toddler. “But you’re all of those things!” he whines to PJ, just to not let him win. “Why can’t _you_ do it?”

“Because I hate you,” PJ deadpans, and Dan punches his shoulder to coax a fond smile out of him instead, and Louise hugs his side tightly.

 

 

Finding Phil Lester isn’t difficult. You always know where to find the art nerds. There is a _system_.

The only art nerd to really break this system is PJ, because while he does take art, Dan takes drama and Louise takes textiles, so the only logical place for him, and really all three of them, to be for around eighty percent of his awake time combined with school time would be _outside_ of the art rooms and _away_ from the art table at lunch to sit in the programme-neutral zones instead. Dan always liked the ones who broke the system. 

Phil Lester, however, is painting his heart out with watercolours when Dan quietly steps over the doorstep to the art room. He knows it’s him, because PJ described him as ‘that tall guy always dressed in black’, and yeah, it’s just really hard to miss.

Dan carefully knocks on the open door and Phil looks up, black glasses on framing his insanely blue eyes and. Fuck. Okay? That’s weird.

Dan ignores the hot flash through his body and forces a smile, because he’s a man on a mission. Blue eyes shouldn’t make his whole body throb. “Hey! You’re Phil, yeah?”

“Yeah?” he replies and fuck, no. He’s not allowed to have a voice that dark and husky. He’s not allowed to have snakebite piercings and he’s not allowed to have a pretty tattoo snaking past the cuff of his black T-shirt.

He’s simply not allowed.

“I’m Dan,” Dan bravely continues, walking over to his table and dumping a huge pile of papers, making Phil’s glass of dirty paint-water shake, “and we’ve got a hella lot of talking to do.”

 

 

Phil says he’ll buy him a new set of makeup brushes if it’s included in the price Dan is to pay him once the play has had its two performances, and Dan wasn’t even originally planning to pay anyone anything to touch this gorgeous face, but he finds himself nodding yes to whatever Phil has to tell him. Turns out Phil has had clients before, on Halloween and stuff, but he’s painted only one person in feminizing makeup (drag, really, but they never use that word). He watches a lot of Youtube tutorials though, he assures Dan, and then they have a little chat about that.

Dan usually never gets flustered talking to people, even if it's cute boys, even if they're a Zayn Malik or Frank fucking Ocean lookalike, but when he walks out of the art room, leaving a copy of the script and the sketch for his scene clothes for Phil, his cheeks are definitely burning, roses blooming in them and even the tops of his ears are tinted, too. He draws his bottom lip into his mouth and rushes to the bathroom to splash cold water in his face, and when he comes out, PJ and Louise are stood grinning at him.

“Looks like the meeting with Phil went alright,” PJ says, laugh concealed by the surprising steadiness of his voice. 

“You two must have gotten along _really well_ ,” Louise says with a gross wink, and Dan slaps his hands to his face and wishes for death.

 

 

Come tuesday, and Phil is meant to meet him for their first try at the makeup, just before one of the last Moulin Rouge rehearsals with wardrobe. 

Dan has been noticing him in the corridors now, _really_ noticing him, and wonders how the hell he ever looked past very obvious facial piercings and a side-swept black fringe. Not that he's even his type. Not that he should find that stuff even vaguely attractive, himself in a baby pink cherry blossom jumper and pale ripped jeans, a sparkle on his nails from last week's impulsive nail varnish session. And, yet. They’ve been making mixtures of waves and salutes at each other, a few smiles turned into giddy grins when they cross paths again just ten minutes later, and Dan can’t help but wonder if Phil ever noticed Dan in the same way before he ever introduced himself.

Dan sits down in front of the big Broadwayesque mirror, in the cellar-room underneath the stage of the auditorium, lights disgusting and yellow and not making him look his best. That shouldn’t be a problem; he shouldn’t want to look his best for a guy he doesn’t even know.

When Phil walks in, he’s carrying a large black bag Dan only hopes contains makeup, but it could as well contain an entire turkey and some weapons, probably. He smiles when he makes his grand entrance, and actually, it might light up the entire room.

“Hey, Dan,” he says gently. “Hope I’m not late.”

“Nah,” Dan says, looking at the clock on the wall. “I was just early.”

“Bit eager, yeah?” Phil quips. “I’ve been looking up lots of cool people on The Youtubes, so hopefully this won’t turn out a mess.”

He sits down in a chair opposite Dan, and then he just. Looks at him. Actually leans forward and squints a bit.

Dan bursts out in a nervous laugh. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Will soon,” Phil chirps and leans back. Then he laughs. “No, that was so lame, I’m sorry. I was just looking at your eyes.”

“Okay…? What about my eyes?”

“Well, they’re pretty,” Phil is quick to add, and Dan’s heart beats the tiniest bit harder. “Very almond shaped. Perfect, really. But I was just wondering what eyeshadow shape would best go with them. And what to do about your eyebrows. It’s been keeping me awake at night.”

“They’re not good enough, are they?”

“Clearly, James Charles would be very happy with them, but I’m conflicted about if we should glue them down or use the Willam method and tape them back.” He pouts. “But I think that could be a bit scary.”

Dan looks offended and frightened all at the same time. “Reckon it is! I don’t want you to rip my face off!”

Phil tilts his head. “Hm.”

He keeps looking at him. And Dan can’t fucking take it. 

He points at his bag. “What’s gluing them down mean?”

Phil smiles big and leans over to it, zips it open from side to side. “Well!” he says, taking out a red glue stick. “You just put glue on them, wait until it dries and then you’ve got a smooth surface. You know, like you’d have shaved them off without the commitment, yeah? I think I’ll just put yours on your outer corner, for the arch and stuff, and then I can work over it to create some new ones that will accentuate your eyes more. Satine’s got quite thin ones in the movie.”

“And that longass tail that goes into her hairline.”

“Love that,” Phil says, unscrewing the cap and leaning forward. Dan feels a gust of his cologne and it almost has him light-headed with how good it is. “Really excited for that, to be quite honest. Could you push your hair out of your face, please?”

Dan holds a hand to his chest and looks hurt. “No?”

Phil stares at him dumbfounded. Then he leans back in his chair. “Okay.” He puts the glue stick onto the desk. Then he flicks his head to the side, and pushes his fringe up the rest of the way with his free hand, pushing it up and back and oh my god, Dan closes his legs, grips the arms of the chair because Phil just looks so awfully bloody attractive. He looks at him again, looking several years older, in a good way. A very handsome, mature, choke-on-my-dick-and-call-me-daddy kind of good way. “Now you.”

Dan snorts, trying to brush off his embarrassment with his impeccable charm, but he feels his cheeks redden, and he tips his head forward to brush through his curly fringe. “That only lowered my self esteem, thank you very much.”

“No way?” Phil turns to get the glue again. “You’re like the prettiest guy in school.”

Dan looks up with his fringe more to the side rather than in front of his eyes, trying to figure out if Phil is joking or not. He can’t. So he tells himself it’s just because Phil is older, he’s been Dan’s age once and knows it’s shit, so that it’s his plight as a greater 18-year-old to make him feel better. He’s been told he’s good looking before, of course he has; even had a few flings and a boyfriend or two in the past. But for some reason it’s this that makes him suddenly feel his pulse in every inch of his body. 

“Thanks,” Dan rushes to say, but it comes out awkward, like he’s a sheep who just got told the wolf won’t eat him, not today. 

“Right.” Phil leans forward again, and Dan’s gaze catch on his snakebites, gleaming in the light. “This will be a bit cold, obviously. Bit sticky too.”

“Warm and sticky would be much more preferable.”

“Yeah,” Phil decides, then holds his thumb to his temple, stretching his eyebrow out to apply the glue on the outer corners. “This is the scariest part, promise.”

“Really?”

“No.” He taps it out, smoothening it. “You know when I have to pull your eyelid down and put eyeliner on your waterline? You can start praying right now I don’t poke your eyeball out.”

Dan realises how he’s staring mesmerized at his pink lips moving, at the metal rings moving along with his words. He nearly jumps when Phil licks his lips and bites the bottom one in concentration, and he flicks his eyes up to Phil’s instead, just as concentrated there. Dan is so doomed, and he just wants to kiss him so bad.

Once both halves of his brows are covered, Phil sits back and admires his masterpiece. 

“There,” he says, putting the cap back on. “You won’t want to look at yourself right now, though. This isn’t the most attractive stage.”

Dan furrows his brow but it feels weird and dry, yet with like a third of it still moist. “Again with the self esteem booster.”

Phil chuckles. He digs around in his bag and gets out a black tube. “Alrighty princess, let's move on,” he says, and Dan calmly ignores how the nickname makes him hitch on his breath as Phil reaches for a pink bottle and a smaller white container.

It's the white thing that catches his attention.

“Is that…” Dan’s lips twitch. “Moisturiser?”

“Every guy’s worst enemy for some reason,” Phil shrugs. “This here is toner, for minimizing your pores. And it’s good for your skin, or something. I don’t know. I didn’t invent it.”

He applies the liquid over Dan’s face with a cotton pad, then puts it back and gives Dan the moisturiser.

“You could apply this yourself, so my fingers don’t get all like, gunky, maybe.”

“Gunky. Right, sure.” He unscrews the lid. His eyelids may flutter in surprised pleasure. “Ooh! Coconutty.”

“Uh huh. I use it a lot and feel like a proper princess myself. On a mediterranean island with a seashell bra.”

Dan smooths it over his face. “I don’t even exfoliate.”

“You’re such a boy.” 

“But what really is _boy_?” Dan counters slyly.

“Touché.” Phil pulls out a small pink sponge and bottle-like thing that’s beige. Foundation, Dan supposes. He’s never done makeup before though. “I hope this is your colour,” he hums, holding it up to his face. “Yeah. Close enough. Be right back.”

He jogs to the bathroom next door and Dan hears the water run as he rubs the last of the moisturiser in. When he comes back the small pink sponge is slightly darker and his hand is wet. 

He plops down in the seat again, exclaiming: "I almost forgot the most important prep!"

"Remind me again why I trust you with this?"

"Pardon me, but no." He puts the sponge away on the table and pulls out a black tube. "Primer. It’s like a base just to keep your makeup on. And again, please don’t ask me about the science behind it. It just works.”

He divides the cream over Dan’s nose and cheeks, then he asks him to close his eyes to gingerly swipe it over his lids as well. Dan isn’t breathing the entire time.

When he's done he opens the cap of the foundation and splurts some of the gooey stuff out onto the back of his hand. It’s quite tan compared to Phil’s pale complexion. Dan is so damn asian.

He dips the sponge into it and reaches for Dan’s face, then stops himself. “Oh yeah, sorry. This is a beauty blender.” He holds the sponge up for inspection. “Not important. It’s used to apply foundation smoothly, because with a brush it could get streaky. And foundation, obviously - which is this,” he raises his hand, “like with a house, goes on first. I don’t care what anyone says.”

“I wasn’t going to argue,” Dan mumbles as Phil brings his hand closer. 

“And that’s why I like you, Danny boy.”

Danny boy. And no one ever called Dan anything but Dan before this day. Phil is the master of nicknames.

He starts dabbing over his now non-existent eyebrows, then the rest of his forehead, his cheeks, nose and chin. Dan actually breathes, but just barely. It’s a long enough process he might have passed out had he not, but then again, how is he even still alive at this point anyway?

“This is great,” Phil muses to himself. He chucks the sponge - erm, beauty blender? - onto the desk. “Right, now to concealer. Not that you need any, because your skin is like, actually so flawless.”

He digs around and finds a sheer stick, and thankfully it’s not fingers this time either, but a small applicator. Dan can deal with that. He can deal with feeling Phil’s heat and sweet boyish scent. 

His touch? Not so much.

When Phil has dotted some of the concealer under Dan’s eyes he grabs the sponge again and dabs it along the dots. “Just blending that out now. I like just brightening up the area here a bit, because then comes the contour, which I’ll assume you know what’s for.”

“I just know it from the memes.”

Phil puts the sponge away and gets a tin of powder and a big brush out. He swirls the brush around in it, then starts gently swiping across Dan’s face. “Ah, the _memes_ ,” he says, knowingly, yet also sounding like a dad trying to be hip with the times. “Okay. So the light hits your face here, yeah?” He points with both hands to his cheekbones. And they’re so damn sharp. “Naturally, we’ll have a shadow below that, like how there’s a shadow under your chin. That’s the contour. It’s like an amplified shadow, really. When we put on the foundation and powder - oh yeah, this is powder.”

“I figured.”

“Smart boy.” He dips the brush and brushes some extra light times over his forehead and over his nose. “When you put foundation on, it makes your whole face one colour so it makes it kind of flat. Contour takes the dimension back. Oh and I also brought highlight, so that’ll be fun. That also goes to accentuate where the light hits.”

“Will it be popping?” Dan mumbles absently.

“It will most definitely be popping.”

He closes the lid and puts all the stuff away. He picks up another tin, similar to the powder one, but he changes to a new brush from his set so it can’t possibly be.

“That’s the contour now?” Dan asks, studying as he opens the lid and it’s a darker, more bronzy colour.

“Correct.” Phil swirls the brush around, then taps it against the open lid so some powder dusts off. “Don’t talk for a sec, if you would be so kind.”

Dan practically wires his mouth shut. He watches Phil’s face as he swipes gently, gently over his cheeks, just below his collarbones like he said. Then the other side. And then a bit on his temples, under his nose and along his jawline. 

Then he reaches for a new brush, a small thinner one, and he leans in to draw two lines along Dan’s nose. Dan guesses that’s a way of contouring too. Phil takes the big brush and swipes along the strokes then, away from the bridge of his nose and towards his face in slightly circular motions. 

When he puts the stuff back, Dan cocks an eyebrow. “That was more than you prepared me for.”

“Sorry,” Phil says apologetically, taking out yet another tin. “My hands work faster than my brain.”

Dan nearly squeals.

“Here’s the highlight,” he swiftly continues, and this brush Dan likes, because it’s kind of like a small hand fan. If hand fans were like, made of tiny synthetic hairs. It looks cool, is the point, and the shimmer of the highlight has Dan mesmerized for a moment. “I’m putting it on your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose and your Cupid’s bow.”

“What’s a Cupid’s bow?”

“You’ll see.”

Phil puts it on said places, again with the gentle strokes, and then he puts it just above his top lip, at the arch. Dan can’t help but smile and pull away a bit.

Phil grins. “Tickles?”

“Gosh, yeah.” Dan goes to scratch his face, then remembers that would be the biggest flop of the century so he retreats and sits on his hands instead.

Phil chuckles, then puts the stuff in the bag. “At least you know what a Cupid’s bow is now.”

Then he puts his hands to his thighs and breathes out heavily.

“Welp.” He makes a tutting noise. “That was just the base.”

Dan wants to cry. “How about you just, do your thing, and you don’t have to talk, yeah? Maybe it’ll be quicker.”

“But how will you learn?” Phil chimes in, genuinely concerned. 

Dan glances at the clock. “We’ll walk through that part next time, I think.”

Phil looks at the clock and agrees, very reluctantly, but at least he does agree. 

“Well thing is, you look so beautiful already,” he murmurs then, head down his bag, “we barely even need any more than this.”

He continues to work his magic, sketching out eyebrows for Dan and filling them in, lots of eyeshadow and something that says DipBrow involved. And yes, he does draw the tail out right into the hairline, making Dan giggle and Phil shushes him good-naturedly. Then comes the eyeshadow, a beige over his lids then brushing way higher with a dark brown than Dan thought eyeshadow was meant to go, above his natural crease and then blending it up into what feels like should be his eyebrows, but he doesn’t fight it.

The eyeliner is the worst, both liquid and pencil, and Phil has to break the vow of silence to talk him through that, no less catch the tears that fill Dan’s virgin eyes. While Dan apologizes over and over, Phil puts on mascara, just making Dan’s eyes even more watery and he has to apologize a dozen more times before he can breathe properly and settle down again. Then comes the fake eyelashes, and Dan nearly has a breakdown.

Lipstick is easiest, that he can handle. He doesn’t like the aftermath though, when they feel sticky and weird, and Dan has an urge to smear it right the fuck off but doesn’t, out of respect for the artist, of course.

When Phil says he can finally look in the mirror, forty-five minutes have passed since they started and the rehearsal is beginning in fifteen. Okay, that’s fine. Dan needs to just check so it’s okay, get his wig, get his clothes, and then-

He jumps back with a hand hovering about a millimeter from his jaw when he sees his reflection.

“Phil,” he gasps, embarrassed how much it sounds like he’s actually about to come. And then he’s rendered speechless. 

He looks… absolutely fucking stunning? 

His skin looks so smooth, and it’s etched out so perfectly, expertly. Like a bloody sculpture. His eyes look much bigger too, the crease of his eye much, much higher, black eyeliner stretching over half his actual eyelid. And the eyebrows, the eyebrows are just a masterpiece, the kind one can only find on Instagram beauty gurus. When he slowly removes his hand he notices his lips look bigger too, the lipstick-line around them reaching above his natural one and his so-called Cupid’s bow looks more straight, making it look like he’s got work done. He still looks like himself, just about a million times hotter.

“Holy…” 

Then he doesn’t know how to finish.

Phil leans closer and looks at him in the mirror. Dan is just staring at himself, but he can feel his watching eyes. “Cow,” he supplies kindly.

“Yeah,” Dan whispers, _wheezes_ , so blown away he doesn’t even know how to talk properly. “Holy fucking cow.”

 

 

The rehearsal goes well. So damn well, and when Dan gets off the stage, he sees in the back of the aula, in the dark, Phil getting up from a seat and shuffling outside. Dan is surprised to see him, but figures he could have only came in last minute, because he’s bound to have some classes to attend like most people. 

Dan also thinks he must be his new good luck charm, and he’s about to call for him and run to catch him before he leaves but then people round up around him, throwing compliments all over him until Dan is more than a little bit smothered, but smiling proudly all the same. 

Someone asks him who did his makeup so beautifully, and Dan says it was Phil. When they ask who this Phil is, he can’t quite find the words to describe him. They simply don’t exist. 

Someone recalls that guy dressed in all black and yet another someone else points out how funny it’d be to see them together. Like a real life punk and pastel edit. 

Naturally, he gets asked if he’s lowkey crushing on Phil, and he promptly denies it. 

He hopes his makeup covers how much it gets him blushing. 

 

 

Shoving his hand down his jeans that night, head thrown back, mouth open for breathy whimpers and whines, it’s Phil he finds himself thinking of. Phil wrapping his hand around him and whispering in his ear how beautiful he is, wrapping his mouth around him too, piercings cold as they slide along the hot length of him. 

He lightly whispers his name when he comes, thrusting off the bed and thighs quivering, riding through the aftershocks with only him in his mind, though he’ll swear on his life he didn’t say a word.

 

 

Dan encounters Phil by the lockers that wednesday afternoon, and it changes a lot.

It’s not even meant to happen, really. He’s going to English with Louise and then just sees Phil stood with headphones on and digging around his locker. Louise sees it all, Dan’s entire mental process, and says she’ll leave with a suggestive eyebrow raise to which Dan grits his teeth.

He walks up, careful to round him and not walk straight up behind him to not scare him half to death. Phil looks startled anyway when he suddenly appears, but slides his headphones off his rosy ears, smiling big.

“Hey,” he greets, all bright eyes and husky voice and it’s really, really not fair.

“Hi,” says Dan, leaning against a locker because he is smug. Smug as all hell. “Just making sure you remember I’ll be needing you tomorrow again.

“Oh crap,” Phil deadpans. He comically smacks a hand to his forehead. “I totally forgot.”

Dan boxes his arm and smiles. Phil grabs his arm.

“Ouch.” He pouts and rubs it up and down, making Dan roll his eyes. “Alright then, princess. Same place, same time?” 

“Yep,” says Dan. “In the cellar… In the dark...”

Phil nods and shrugs at the same time. “Tempting, I must say.”

“Oh yes, absolutely lovely.”

Phil’s smile doesn’t falter. And Dan can’t think of more ways to describe the place where they had what-will-be-called their first date, should they ever become a thing. Which they clearly won’t. Clearly. So, really, Dan’s just out of words.

He nods at his headphones instead. “What’re you listening to?”

“Oh.” Phil places a hand on them. “Just something random.” 

“I like random.”

Phil coaxes his phone from his pocket, pressing the home button.

“I literally don’t even know who they are,” he says, squinting, and Dan sees him double-tap back one song. “Oh, but it was Muse like a second ago, though.” 

His eyes widen. “No way?” Phil nods but Dan doesn’t believe him, he _can’t_ , so he tugs his phone from his grip. His eyes, if possible, widen even more. “ _No way._.”

But, surely, the screen is orange and white and the song title says _Plug In Baby_.

“Uh… yeah?” Phil tries. “One of my favourites. I like their older stuff the most, like this.”

“Really now?” Dan is on the verge of actually raising his voice just because he’s so overcome with emotion. “Origin of Symmetry is my favourite album like, by anyone. Ever. It’s just this perfect mixture of everything they are, one of the first albums I heard and-” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Jesus, I…”

But he stops himself, shaking his head more angrily. Stupid, stupid, stupid, don’t confess your love for some guy who’s probably not even into other guys. A guy you don’t even _know_. Just because he likes Muse doesn’t mean- fuck, no. It does. It means he’s perfect. He’s absolutely bloody perfect and Dan is genuinely getting kind of light-headed just standing within his reach.

“Uh, wait”, Dan says, starting over on a new train of thought. “I’ll put something on for you.”

Cheeks blooming red, he cheekily exits Spotify and opens the phonebook app, tapping New Contact. He glances quickly up at Phil, looking back at him expectantly, then he enters “Danny boi” with a lipstick and a heart emoji and adds his cellphone number. He saves the contact, his own heart thumping most discretely, then opens Spotify and quickly starts playing _Monster_ by Kanye.

He hears the very much obnoxious opening note from Phil’s headphones, even from where they hang discarded around his neck, and they both stare at each other for a moment.

“We can’t be friends,” Phil deadpans then. 

Dan breaks out into a grin, then it falls flat. “We certainly can’t,” he snaps back, just as deadpan. “Kanye for president 2020, bro.”

Phil rolls his eyes, but it’s. Not really of annoyance. It’s more like he’s just really, really _fond_. “Can’t we just settle on Matt Bellamy or something, for a world dictator? Anyone?”

Dan slaps his hand to his chest, gaping. Then he turns his heel and looks sassily over his shoulder. “Unfriending you on Myspace at this very moment,” he tuts, waving his finger. Then he points lazily at his phone. “Better delete my number that I just added, too.”

“I don’t have your number?” Phil says confused, but still goes to check. He’s silent for a beat. “You- What? Or, _how_?” Another silent moment. “ _Danny boy_?”

But Dan has already walked off, strutting down the hall, purposefully swaying his hips a tiny bit extra. 

Dan is the dictionary definition of Extra. 

 

The texting action takes a while to start going on, but at least it happens, mostly because it’s nighttime and the premiere of Moulin Rouge is tomorrow and Phil is probably a bit more antsy about doing a good job for Dan than he’s willing to let on.

The first text rolls in around 10:30, when Dan is in bed with earbuds in, loudly listening through Absolution and painting his nails a sparkly silver while reading his lines for about the fifty-eleventh time. He’s nervous too, but he’s learnt to deal with it, more or less. His self hatred is kind of so obvious and sure-to-come at this point, he doesn’t even worry or try to fight it anymore; it’s more worrying if he _doesn’t_ have an existential crisis before every major life event he goes through. 

His phone buzzes beside him and he holds it up above his face, drops it when he sees it’s from Phil but somehow swats it away before it lands on his face and grants him what would have been a most definite fat lip. Maybe it’d have gone with the feminizing makeup, but. Fuck gender rolls. 

He picks it up again, sliding it unlocked and checking the WhatsApp message.

_Phil:_  
_Hello is this Dan? ^-^_

Dan notices the “Phil is typing” too late, new message already rolling in.

_Phil:_  
_*danny boy_

Then comes a lipstick and a heart emoji.

Dan smiles, bites his lip and hovers his thumbs over the keyboard on the screen before he settles for a good-enough reply. 

_Dan:_  
_i feel violated_

He gets mesmerized by Phil’s avatar, a very Myspace aesthetic picture of him with an overexposed face and black fringe taking up most of the shot, pouting ridiculously and eyes so very blue from somewhere behind the dark. His strange little angel, why does he like him so awfully much?

Dan hovers his thumbs some more, swiping dust off the screen and managing to exit the conversation in the process. He nearly leaves it at that then, takes it as a sign from the gods, but he’s not giving up that easy. He is a brave boy. So he sends him the broken heart emoji and the grossed out green-faced one. 

He doesn’t want to be clingy but he can’t bear put his phone down after that, can’t ignore the fuzzy feeling in his stomach. So instead he keeps his phone in his hand and waits, chewing his lip raw in the process. 

_Phil:_  
_Just wanted to give you my number in return bestest danny boi :D_

_Is it too out of line to ask wyd?_

_Dan:_  
_oh you’ve crossed the line this time mister._

_just reading my lines over because I’m hella nervous about tomorrow_

_shit, now you know I’m just a lameo_

He puts his phone down, stares at the ceiling and just breathes for a moment. In his earphones, Matt Bellamy sings of hopelessly loving someone endlessly.

When his phone buzzes he breaks out in a grin, as much of relief as it is just purely giddy. He feels like a schoolgirl with a crush when he checks the preview. 

_Phil:_  
_Lameo? No_

_Adorable as all heck?_

_Why heck yes_

It must be another sign from the gods. The fertility ones. He actually clutches his phone to his chest for a moment. 

_Dan:_  
_thnx. not too bad yourself. x_

_thanks so much for your number but I rlly got to do this thing now or whatever_

_will be very excited to see you tomorrow tho :]_

The next reply take a bit longer than the other ones. But not long enough for Dan to let his hand leave his phone and move back to his stack of papers. It also gets his mind wandering miles and miles.

_Phil:_  
_As always. :) See you at 2 then_

_And now with those manners you’ll never know what I was doing :p mwaha_

Dan doesn’t reply. He’s a bit scared of how infatuated he is, added onto the fear how much more infatuated he’d become if Phil were to tell him what Dan thinks he meant by that, what he was actually doing to bring him to randomly text him.

And not a single more line of script was read that night.

 

 

Dan knows the first thing he should think to say when he meets Phil the next afternoon should be anything but _“Did you text me because you couldn’t stop thinking about me? Couldn't you sleep because you had to get off?”_

But it is. Thankfully, he doesn’t say it aloud, so it doesn’t get added to _Things Dan Should Have Never Said Volume 12_. Because, clearly, the last thing that will abandon him is his goddamn self control. 

But when Phil properly sits down opposite him, when he’s within reach and Dan still can’t touch him… That’s when it gets hard. Not like that. Well, kind of like that. Dan’s gotten hard for him at least like five times since he met him at the beginning of the week. Not that he’s counting. He’s a fine lady, sitting there in his beautiful wine red lace-strap silk dress about to literally get his face beat for the backrow; of course he’s not counting.

While Phil babbles on about Final Fantasy and digs out the primer, Dan’s hands twist in his lap. _”Do you like me? Do I make you want to get off a lot? Do you want to like go out with me sometime or something I dunno lol but like, do you really?”_

Phil applies the primer with his hands and Dan goes hot under his touch. He closes his eyes, tries to focus on breathing normally but of course sounds strangled instead and god, there come the thoughts of Phil choking him. He wonders if he’s into kinky sex, oh god, _sex_. He imagines having _sex_ with _Phil_ and Dan just hates being alive, he really does.

“I suppose you remember these steps, so I don’t have to talk through them again? Save my breath for the stuff we missed?” says Phil. “Basically, toner and moisturiser for your skin's health, primer’s for having the makeup stay in place, you remember? Special night tonight yeah, so I’ll be sure to have it last all night long. Stay still for a sec.” He swipes some gently over Dan’s closed eyes and Dan represses a shudder. “Thanks, all done. Now to foundation.”

Dan’s eyes flutter open and he silently watches him. The anxiety bubbles up inside. Like sitting on the correct answer in class, staring straight ahead, too afraid to say anything. He chews on his bottom lip.

“Your skin is seriously like, wow,” Phil continues, dabbing it on. “Really great complexion. I’m totally not jealous though, love me being a sheet and all.”

He’s just replaced it with the powder and has brushed it across his face only slightly by the time he stops and notices. 

“You're awfully quiet tonight. Are you okay? Just nerv-”

Dan inhales quickly. “Do you like me?”

It’s totally blurted out. Yelled, nearly. Dan feels his cheeks heat up but he doesn’t regret it. Doesn’t beg to take it back.

Phil stares at him, eyes wide. Then he scoffs and furrows his brow. “What?”

“Do you have a crush on me?” Dan prompts, still as freaked out. “Just tell me, yes or no.”

Phil stares. Dan tries to breathe. 

“Just tell me no, then.”

Phil stares some more. Then he turns to his bag.

Dan leans back. “Seriously?”

“Please.” Phil holds his hand up, looking genuinely hurt. “Just. Shush, Dan? Maybe? Okay.”

He puts the highlighter on the desk then picks up the contour, gets the right brush and swirls it around, slowly. Like he’s prepared and hyper-aware in case Dan is to say something. Anything.

He taps the excess off the brush and starts swiping along his cheekbones, but barely even looks at him. 

Dan looks at him, though. “Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Phil says like it’s the most outrageous thing in the world and it makes Dan want to flinch. “What for?”

“I don’t know, because I’m such an irresistible piece of ass?”

Phil drops his hands to his knees and gives him a long look. “Actually shut up.”

He swipes over the other side too, then picks up the highlighter. But he likes him. Phil actually likes him.

“You’re really bad at lying and like, covering things up, you know that?” Dan says, looking up at the ceiling as he gets his highlight popping. “Except for blemishes. You’re great at covering those things up.”

“That’s why you take drama and I take art, Daniel,” Phil grits.

“It’s Daniel now, is it? What happened to Danny boy?”

Phil pulls back and looks at him confused. “Did I come up with that?”

“Yeah?” Dan snorts and Phil makes a surprised huh-will-you-look-at-that hum and puts the stuff away. “I actually listen to you sometimes.”

“Shocking,” he says. “New at 10: Dan isn’t deaf. I’m doing your eyebrows now.”

“Okay. And yeah, you said it the first time you did my makeup, I can’t remember the context but it definitely happened. And erm, I do like Final Fantasy too, by the way. It’s like my favourite game, but thanks for explaining it like I’m an idiot.”

Phil pulls at the skin by his temple with his thumb, fingers buried in his hair. Dan really can’t understand when or how that happened, but there they are like they should have always been tangled up in his curls. “The shape I’m going for is just to follow your natural straight line - which is very in right now, I’ll have you know - but I’ll make it a bit bolder over the top. For the arch I’m dragging it slightly upward to accentuate your eye more. Also to fit more shadow.”

“Great,” Dan says as Phil fills his left brow in, drawing upwards for the longass Satine-esque tail. “Muse is my favourite band too. In case you couldn’t tell? Obviously I’m in a devoted relationship with Kanye, but I like other stuff, like, Arcade Fire too. And Radiohead. But I can listen to almost anything when the mood calls for it. Love me some One Direction. Zayn is so bloomin’ hot.”

Phil snorts and moves on to the next one, presumably making it fleeky as fuck. 

“I like criminology themed stuff for series and film,” Dan continues, looking at Phil working now, looking at his snakebites tucked half into his mouth in concentration. “Like Criminal Minds or How To Get Away With Murder. I was going to be a lawyer, originally, but then decided, fuck it, I don’t want to be what my parents want me to be. I want to be myself.” Phil pulls away, examining his work. Dan’s eyes are locked at his. “A loud, annoying drama queen.”

Phil looks for a beat longer, then turns to his bag for eyeshadow. “I use a beige base then cut your crease with a darker colour to create a shadow-like effect, which will make them appear bigger, or more feminine.” He leans in with a smaller brush and works expertly. “And you’re not annoying.”

“But I’m loud?”

Phil grins. “I shall say no more.”

Dan gapes. “I object!” he squeaks, making his voice higher than usual. Phil rolls his eyes, smiling, looking fond.

When he’s done both base coats he dips into the darker colour. “I like Radiohead too. Well, I agree with most of what you just said, to be fair. Especially the Zayn part.”

“Right?”

“Unfairly attractive. I used to love horror movies as a kid so I love them shows you mentioned too. My favourite movie’s Kill Bill, though.”

“Ah. Tarantino’s great.”

“Yeah.” He swipes gently but quickly over where Dan feels his eyebrow should be, but clearly isn’t. “Genius.”

He changes brush and dips into a shimmering pearl white on the palette.

“Was that introduction speech you making up for the time you didn’t spend talking, by the way?”

“Think so,” Dan shrugs. “I’m what they call: loud vertically, but not horizontally.”

Phil shakes his head quickly. “What, like. Time?” he spurts out. “Loud in volume but not loud for a long time? What the. Okay.”

“You really didn’t like that.”

“No, I really didn’t. That was like bordering on physics or something.”

Dan smiles sheepishly. “I hope you didn’t think it was some sort of innuendo.”

Phil pulls the eyeliner out and Dan cringes from the memory of it, but at least he doesn’t start screaming or anything.

“Honey,” Phil says then, very much patronizing. “That would have made absolutely no sense.”

It goes better this time though, Phil distracting him with monologue about why Tarantino is a genius of not only our but every generation to come after, while Dan mostly focuses on not crying his poor sensitive eyes out. The pencil eyeliner is easier too, still feels gross and cakey and heavy but still, it’s easier.

Phil quickly applies mascara, then glues his lashes on, making his eyes about three tons heavier and in the process, unapologetically sensual in their constant half-lidded state. 

When Dan has recovered slightly from the sting of them at the corners, Phil has picked out a pretty peachy red lipgloss. Dan leans towards him a bit, but nearly jumps all the way back when Phil suddenly mumbles: “Close your eyes.”

Phil is looking at him calmly, biting his lip a bit. Dan feels it in his chest. 

He furrows his brow and sits back slowly. “Why?” he asks quietly, but he shuts his eyes anyway. He knows enough, at least by now, to know you shouldn’t have to close your eyes for lipstick.

“Because.” 

Dan holds his breath. He hears Phil lean forward, and Dan sits still, listening closely. Then he just hears his own heartbeat. 

When he feels something on his lips a moment later, it’s definitely not a gross lipgloss applicator. Warm, tentative, slowly and softly closing around his. Actually, the whole of Dan feels warm. And Phil is kissing him. _Phil is kissing him_.

Dan draws a quick breath through his nose, so shocked from the realisation and it must be what makes Phil suddenly pull back. But Dan reacts and grabs his shoulder. Apparently he grabs it hard enough for Phil to stop, and Dan puts his other hand on his cheek, kissing him deeper. He can’t stop. He physically cannot stop. 

He tastes like gum and coffee, soft and boyishly rough at the same time and Dan feels intoxicated, all his limbs feeling mushy and his heart beating like a steel hammer in his chest. 

It’s when Dan’s hand trails down from his shoulder that Phil successfully pulls away. Dan opens his eyes, and Phil’s already looking shameful, fiddling with the gloss. “Sorry.”

Dan doesn’t know what to say. “You don’t have to stop.”

Phil gives him a look. Just this long, strange look that Dan can’t read, but it kind of breaks his heart as much as it makes him want to surge forward and violently press their faces together again. 

“Your show starts in 5,” Phil says then, quietly, as if that should explain anything for Dan’s near-boner state. Phil looks down in his lap and Dan can’t focus, can’t hear his own thoughts, not from how loud his pulse is beating in his ears. 

And that looks says the lot. It says Phil would have gotten hard for him too, hadn’t they stopped. 

He pops the cap of the gloss open, and then the conversation is over. Dan is still kind of starry eyed and his lips tingle from the memory of Phil all until they’re coated in lipgloss. And, hey. Phil likes him. He said it more than in just his lack of a proper response. Phil Lester fucking likes him. 

They don’t speak again until Phil says he can leave and quietly wishes him good luck, and Dan quietly replies a “see you tomorrow”. Because sadly, they have to live through this tension one more day and, sadly, it’s the last time they’re actually forced to see each other. What comes after Moulin Rouge suddenly seems like a threat rather than a relief. 

 

 

It’s not that it’s weird to speak to Phil after that. But it’s just, like. Really fucking weird.

He’s not as much of his happy cheerful self, almost bashful when Dan finds him in the dressing room the next afternoon, and immediately starts on his makeup without much of a chit chat. The premiere yesterday went amazing and Dan knew he could see Phil in the back during the show, but as soon as it was over and he just wanted to find him and hug him (and kiss him, a lot), he was already gone. Yet another hand job and fingering session had to commense in his bedroom that night, alone.

And, now. Now it’s like a weird tension in the air. Not like we’re-fighting-and-not-talking sort of tension, not I-know-I’ve-messed-up-but-I-want-you-to-apologize-first. More like, this hyper-aware hot sensation, like Dan can’t open his legs enough for Phil when he leans forward to do his contour, and that if Phil might just open his mouth to take a single breath for another word Dan might actually attach himself to his lips and never let him go ever again.

But he doesn’t say anything. The only sounds are their breaths, the footsteps from upstairs thumping around, someone pacing back and forth making Dan anxious. Phil curses under his breath as he messes up Dan’s eyeliner, carefully wiping it off as Dan physically has to hold himself down by grabbing the chair. 

When he’s got his lashes on, there’s this weird moment when Phil looks at his bag for too long. And Dan looks at him. Lipgloss comes next, and. Dan wants to kiss him. His whole body begs him, his mind fucking screams at him. Just lean forward. Turn him around and he’ll let you. He’ll even fucking kiss you back.

But he doesn’t. And neither does Phil. But they both know, and when Phil sneaks a glance over at Dan before he gets the lipgloss, he could as well have caressed his inner thigh with how Dan reacts. 

He’s too close then, too warm and too lovely-scented. He applies a generous coat, quietly instructing Dan to smack his lips together when he’s done, never looking into his eyes once. But Dan can’t ignore the way Phil stares a bit at his lips when he does.

So. He spends extra long dragging them together, making them puffy and tingly. He just wants to kiss a lot. He just want to kiss.

Does he _just_ want to kiss?

When his lips feel plump enough to be considered a crime if one wouldn’t find them irresistible, Phil’s still looking. Dan clenches his jaw. “Hang on,” Phil mumbles, finally looking away and digging out a sheet of tissue paper. “Did too much.” 

He wraps it around his finger, then holds it up to Dan’s mouth. It’s like he’s threatening him. Or like. He’s not sure. Dan cocks a brow. “Are you molesting me?”

“I’m afraid you have to open your mouth so I can get this gunk from your lips.”

Dan looks him in the eye. “You’re molesting me.”

Phil pushes his finger closer. His face is hard to read. “Open up, pretty boy, or I’ll shoot.”

Dan rolls his eyes, then does as told, parting his lips slightly. His eyes begin darting from between Phil’s finger and his gaze, locked at his. Then he opens his mouth further and Phil carefully guides his finger into his mouth, not far, just past his lips. But far enough to make Dan’s entire body hot and throbbing. 

“Now close your mouth,” he says, voice dark like he’s angry. Or like he’s- something else. “Wrap your lips tightly around it, then I’ll pull it out.”

Dan does as told. The eye contact doesn’t break once as Phil drags his finger out.

When he holds it up in front of them for inspection, it does in fact have some peachy glittery stains on it. “Trick I picked up,” Phil murmurs, chucking the paper in the bin. Then he looks up at Dan. “Hope you didn’t think that was some sort of innuendo.”

“I’m sorry, but would you take it the wrong way if I asked to suck you off right now?”

Phil’s eyes go wide in shock, and so do nearly Dan’s. Self control and all that, it’s his best trait, it really is. He can’t help it when his mind is bawling to touch him.

But then Dan sees something he thought he’d never see. Phil’s ears tinting red. Phil is _flustered_.

“I- what?” he stutters, laughing nervously. 

“Okay.” Dan slides off his chair, onto the floor, collecting himself over Phil’s lap, hands on his thighs and chin tucked on top of his knees pressed tightly together. “Now? Is that okay?”

“Dan, what the hell?” 

“Just quickly.” He opens his mouth a bit, looking up at Phil, proper innocent. He bats his eyelashes and grins. “You’re not saying no.”

Phil is gripping onto the arms of the chair, thighs tense and pressed together. “I’m not,” he says slowly, swallowing thickly, “because you’re not making sense.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” 

“We just did your lips.”

Dan’s hands travel up his sides, ghosting closer to his dick, swelling up underneath the dark denim. Phil muscles tense beneath him. “We’ve got 17 minutes. That’s way more than 5. Tell me now if you want me to fuck off and never talk to you again, but you also have to tell me if you don’t want that to happen. Whether you just want me now or later too.”

He lets his fingers slide over his package, and Phil’s head tilts slightly back as he sighs. It’s a sight and a half, and Dan can feel how big he is, pressed hard against his thigh.

“I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” Phil says then, voice raspy.

“That’s a yes?”

Dan tilts his head, puppy eyeing him. Phil closes his eyes and breathes out heavily. “Yes, Dan,” he grits out. “Yes I bloody like you.”

Dan breaks into a grin. He finds his belt buckle, jiggling it open. “That’s awfully nice,” he starts, letting the belt fall open into two directions, “because I bloody like you too.”

Next comes the zip, and Phil is looking at him again, biting his lip and fuck, he’s a daddy fantasy if Dan’s ever seen one. Dan crawls closer to him, Phil parting his legs for him and then he’s there, right between his thighs, looking up at Phil with open, shiny lips.

He pulls him out of his boxers and, goddamn is he massive. Phil chokes back a sound as he fumbles for Dan’s hair, curling his fingers into it as Dan flicks his eyes down. He pokes his tongue out, quick kitten-lick laid over the head of his dick but it seems to do just the trick because Phil’s lips part slightly. When he wraps his mouth around him, a moan spills out of that sinful mouth at the same time as it does from Dan’s own.

He feels heavy on his tongue, hot and throbbing. Dan’s given a handful of handjobs (great pun, no really) but only like two blowjobs before. Nothing like this. Nothing like dressed in a lace-strap red silk dress, on the floor of a dressing room, on a time limit like nothing else before.

He sinks down over Phil, palms himself through his dress and loves the feeling, loves feeling the silk and he remembers his full face of makeup, how gorgeous it must all look. He bats his lashes, proper innocent and he cups himself through the dress, moaning against Phil.

“God, you’re good at that,” Phil mutters and Dan hums in response.

His hand jerks him off where his mouth can’t reach, but he keeps trying to beat his own record, take him lower and lower each time as he bobs his head slightly. He wants to just cherish every single part of him.

“Getting your lipgloss all over me,” Phil murmurs then, petting Dan’s head a bit to let Dan up and see, see the shimmery stains he’s leaving on him. “And smearing it over your face. We’ll have to fix that later.”

“Sorry,” Dan whispers bashfully, then sinks down on him again, all the way down, Phil’s fingers curling hard in his hair. He pulls back with a gasp, a string of spit connecting them that he collects with his tongue then swallows him down again.

“Hell,” Phil starts, scratching his scalp, “I thought I just liked boyish boys, especially after meeting you, trust that… but seeing you dressed like this, so lovely, so pretty…” Dan inhales sharply, and Phil clenches his hand and clutches his hair harder, making Dan whimper a bit. “Yeah? You like being called pretty?”

“Mm-hm,” Dan whines. He bobs his head in a gradually quicker pace over his dick, having shoved his other hand into his boxers and found his own, stroking his thumb along the head.

“So pretty, thought you knew that. I’ve been loving touching you, but it’s been driving me crazy.”

Dan wants to scream he’s felt the same, but instead he sinks down lower over him. He’s jerking his hand in his boxers, creating quiet wet sounds, other hand squeezing at Phil’s base.

“12 minutes,” Phil says, and he sounds different. In a haze. Dan feels it too, and it has him going quicker and deeper and sloppier. “Got to fix you up to be a pretty little courtesan, don’t we? So no one knows you’ve been on the floor for me. I see you touching yourself there, think you can come in that time, baby girl? Make that pussy come for me?”

It hits Dan like a tidal wave. He wasn’t even close but with that sentence he’s suddenly sent right to the edge, balancing between sanity and losing it and he moans and whines over Phil, thrusting into his hand.

“Jesus christ, you like that. You like it when I compliment your pussy? And that pretty face, wish I could come all over you, princess, all over your pretty little face and make you all mine.”

Dan comes hard, like an explosion. He shoots over the floor, hopes nothing ends up on his dress and he moans like no one can possibly hear them.

It’s like being pulled out of a dream when Phil takes a hold of his chin, yanking on his hair.

“Keep going, doll. Almost there.”

So Dan keeps going. He feels his eyes having gone glassy, cheeks blooming and lips sore, but he keeps sucking until Phil is curling his fingers in his hair roughly again, and despite having already came, Dan still loves it.

“Coming,” he pants. Dan shuffles closer in response.

He doesn’t stop until Phil’s coming into his mouth, warm liquid spilling down his throat and he swallows, rewarded by Phil’s slight beautiful throaty moans. When he pulls off him with a pop he opens his mouth to show he’s swallowed it all, something his ex asked him to do last time he gave a blowjob, and it seems it’s something Phil quite enjoys too. Note to self: always be disgustingly kinky.

Dan stumbles up into his chair again, taking a look into the mirror. He looks fucked out. His lipstick is smeared all over his chin and around the corners of his mouth, where some white has also collected. His eyes are wet but thankfully no makeup has been running. Primer does help, after all. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, jittery from the stress. He fumbles for his wig, putting it on and tucking his hair in. Instantly it feels much better. 

“You okay?” Phil leans close to him, having recollected himself slightly. Dan nods then finds a baby wipe and starts rubbing the stains off. “Here,” Phil says, grabbing a new wipe and Dan turns to him. He wipes his face gingerly, removing only the spots absolutely necessary, compared to Dan’s uncoordinated smears. His eyes dart to the clock every so often. 7 minutes until last call, when Dan needs to be backstage.

He reapplies his foundation quickly, tapping some powder on and then Dan is like brand new again. He looks at himself in the mirror, puffing up his wig and he loves it, loves that no one can tell a difference.

“I look hot again,” he states, looking at Phil who smiles big.

“You always do,” he murmurs. He digs out an Diesel cologne from his bag and hands it to him. “And you probably smell like sex. Which I wouldn’t personally mind, but we might want to keep everyone from the shock until after the premiere, don’t you think?”

“Do think.” Dan takes, it smelling it. “Fuck, this is the stuff that’s been ruining my life for the past week.”

“In a good way?”

He sprays it on, knees going weak with the association to Phil. And now he smells like he belongs to him. “You sure it’s not a fall-in-love elixir or something?”

“Well, now that you bring it up…” Phil says but doesn’t finish, takes it back and puts it in the bag.

Then they’re silent for a moment. Just looking at each other. 3 minutes.

“So,” Phil starts. “There’s a being-called-a-girl kink.”

“There’s a calling-someone-a-girl kink?” Dan snaps back, totally not phased.

“I just said whatever came to mind. And you seemed to have blinking loved it, princess.”

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” Dan blurts out. He furrows his brow. “Er. To shut you up. I wish I could kiss you, to make you shut up.”

Phil smirks. He looks down at Dan’s lips. “So do I.”

Dan glances at the clock. Then at Phil. At his lips. Then he gets up. “Meet me after?”

“Can I come to your house?”

“Make it yours?”

Phil nods. “I’ll meet you after. And I’ll be watching you perform.”

“Lurking in the back?”

“In the dark.” He nods again, holding the door open for him. “Obviously. Good luck, babe.” He pecks his forehead and Dan’s knees go weak. He much more prefers these nicknames.

 

 

Dan tells Louise. Of course he tells Louise, because it’s _only_ Louise, and besides she’s the first one to ask him where he’s going when he’s gotten all his makeup off and has his bag over his shoulder outside after the show and people are done showering him in compliments over the absolutely aced show, and what a way to end it all.

Problem is, when Dan starts walking down the pavement with Phil, suddenly PJ knows. And then almost everybody knows. What they know exactly, he isn’t sure, because after all he _only_ told Louise he was going to go to Phil’s to probably have hour-long sensual candle-lit sex, like rabbits. So it really can’t be that bad. 

Phil’s house is surprisingly friendly and cozy. Dan expects at least his bedroom to have chains hanging from the walls or something (not like _that_ ), but instead it’s bright and open and, unfortunately for Dan, lovely just like him. He’ll never want to leave.

As soon as he closes the door to his room behind him, Phil backs him up against it, hands on either side of him. 

“Got you now.”

“Hey,” Dan says, blinking. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Really nice.” Phil leans closer. And why does he have to smell so fucking nice? “Can I kiss you now?”

Dan smiles. His lovely dorky boy. “Do you really think you have to ask?”

Phil smiles too and leans in closer. Now, Dan has had kisses that turned him off the person, kisses that proved to him how there never really was a spark, and that Dan had just been eager to get experience with anyone he could lay his hands on.

That doesn’t happen. Phil is like sugar and spice and everything nice, and Dan just sucks it in greedily, laying his arms over his shoulders. He swipes his tongue over Phil’s bottom lip, feeling the cold metal before he’s granted entrance. And somehow it’s all more perfect than he could have ever expected. He kind of can’t believe he got his mouth on Phil’s you-know-what before he got it properly where he always wanted it, and the awaited touch has his limbs going soft, knees bucking a bit underneath his now suddenly very mushy weight. 

Phil grabs his waist gently, steering him off towards his bed and their lips only part when Phil sits down and helps Dan follow suit, placing him right where he belongs; in his lap. Dan kisses him again, Phil threading his fingers in his hair as the other one caresses him gently up and down his thigh. Dan wants those hands everywhere, those caring and soft touches all over his body. 

Phil’s hands move to his ass then, kneading his fingers in as he moves him back with him to lie down over the bed, Dan following and staying in his lap. He leans down over him, moaning contently against his lips. 

When said lips move to kiss his neck, Dan actually loses his mind.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers, craning his neck to give Phil more space. “God, that feels- feels so amazing, fuck.”

His lips part, gasping helplessly as he balls the sheets into his clenched fists. There’s a sweet spot on his neck that’s an actual direct link to his dick, some way or another, and Phil has somehow figured that all out in a matter of seconds.

With his soft pecks gradually turning rougher, and Phil moving his fingers outside his denim-clad ass closer towards his crack, Dan’s moans get more and more wrecked. His neck goes sore from the sucking and gentle nibbling, leaving bruises and marks all the way down to his collarbones, and he loves it so, so much.

“Promise I’ll cover it up tomorrow,” Phil murmurs against his skin, in the midst of leaving a love bite right over his pulse point. 

Dan groans in response. His hips twitch slightly, on absolute accident but in the process it has their crotches brushing together and Dan is already so ridiculously turned on and gone it has him moaning an embarrassing amount. 

Phil must only agree because Dan feels his nimble hands leave him for a split second and he hears his belt rattle, then Dan’s jeans go yanked down his thighs, and when he leans down towards Phil’s body again it’s no longer rough denim on denim. They’re in their boxers, hard and throbbing and Dan gasps, feeling Phil so close to himself.

“Keep doing that,” Phil husks, and Dan can only nod.

He grinds his hips, tentatively, but gradually grows more confident and within seconds he can really rock them back and forth, total pornstar moves as filthy words and high-strung sounds leave his mouth. 

"Fuck, princess, you're so good for me", Phil murmurs, slips his fingers past the waistband of his boxers and fuck, okay, Dan must have died and gone to heaven. "Pretty doll. My pretty little girl."

Dan whimpers, Phil just sliding his long finger down the middle of his cheeks making his dick twitch, making him squeeze his eyes shut. 

It’s not long before he’s rabbiting his thrusts, mouthing helplessly against Phil’s shoulder. Phil's lips on his neck is triggering every nerve ending of his body, his hands on his ass making his hips stutter like his breaths, coming out in helpless little pants.

“I’m gonna come.”

Phil slaps his ass through his boxers with his other hand, Dan's yelp turned into a shaky moan. “Me too. Keep going."

He keeps grinding against him, warm and wet and then he’s moaning desperately as he comes, a quick jerk of his hips and then he’s trembling through it, Phil holding him and stroking his hair.

When he scrambles back slightly, Phil’s eyes are glassy too, grinning sheepishly.

“Did you come?” Dan asks stupidly.

Phil rolls his eyes. Then he leans up and kisses him.

Dan furrows his brow, and licks his lips as he pulls away. “Okay,” he says slowly, looking down at Phil. “You’re real fucking quiet.”

“That’s relative. I think you’re just loud.”

“As we’ve established,” Dan points out with an attractive snort. “That’s something you need to work on.”

“On what? Making more noises?”

“Duh. Keep my poor soul in mind, I need something to get off on.” His eyes widen momentarily, then he jerks his head away. “Right, okay. I did not say that.”

“What?” Phil says, chuckling, and tickles his waist until Dan squeals and squirms. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about you too.”

Dan keeps his eyes on the floor, but he smiles still. He can’t believe this dweeb, this perfect adorable dweeb too good to be true. He feels warm inside. And maybe a little bit warm in a place he shouldn’t.

“Thanks, lameo,” he murmurs, and Phil pecks his neck lovingly. “Mind if I borrow the shower?”

“Mind if I join?”

Dan has already slid off him, waddling awkwardly towards the door, jeans clutched around his waist.

“I’ll tell you what I wouldn’t mind. You ordering pizza and putting on your favourite movie in a cozy place for us.”

Phil scrambles up behind him. “Kill Bill it is.” He kisses his neck from behind him, and Dan closes his eyes for a moment to just bathe in his warmth, might actually purr and lean into it. When he opens his eyes again, Phil is pointing over him down the hall. “Bathroom’s to the right. Try to save some warm water for me, babes, and I’ll try to share some pizza with you.”

Dan smiles big. His ten-year-old Moulin Rouge loving budding bisexual self would be so proud of him right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I have to add is that this idea came right out of watching Farrah Moan do James Charles' makeup (do y'all love Drag Race? My fave is actually Valentina) but then while writing this I took inspiration from another video I feel like he did with a boy but I can't find that right now (did he delete it or did I dream it up? who knows at this point) and also Willam doing Joey Graceffa's makeup (the lipstick and paper tissue part, anybody?). Then I couldn't think of why Dan would need to wear heavy makeup for anything so I watched Moulin Rouge because I knew it was like theatrical and Dan took drama in school, just to have it make slight sense and honestly, it's not that good? Don't watch it. Satine dies at the end. Good night.
> 
> PS. REMEMBER TO READ CHAPTER 2 PLEASE! :')


	2. hard candy dripping on me 'til my feet are wet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some complaints I cut the fic short and ignored penetrative sex. I absolutely agree. So I wrote it. And here it is.

It’s not weird, is it? How he looks at makeup in the shop windows? Not even when he actually goes inside, when he walks around and checks on prices, does swatches, even asks an employee what his colour is. That’s not too weird, right? It’s totally acceptable in 2017. So how about that moment when he spares an extra long glance at the prettiest little lace knickers in the female section of the clothes shop, when he takes them into the dressing room with him as soon as he’s sure no one’s really looking? How weird on a scale?

He does end up getting them. Or, three, to be exact, because they’re on a 3-for-2 sale and Dan thinks he’s made an absolute bargain. It’s close to Valentine’s day when it happens, so the cashier lady just smiles heteronormatively politely at him as she wraps them up in a box with a big bow without asking him first, and when he leaves the shop white-knuckling the bag his heart is beating as hard as if he just committed his first robbery.

In his room, in the calm and dark with his legs shaved smooth and The 1975 gently thumping from his Macbook, he tries them all on in front of his mirror. One pair is red. He supposes they’re of normal knicker widths and lengths, soft cotton except for the touch of lace like a seam along the sides, gracing his thighs. He spins around, looking at his bum. Looking amazing. He does love them quite a lot.

The other pair is white. They’re all silk, soft and shiny and tucking him in nicely against his hip, apart from the upper third or so of them closest to his tummy in pretty swirly patterns of lace. He likes that part of them the most, likes the rough scratch because he knows beauty is pain, and god does he feel gorgeous. These are tight over his bum, not covering it up properly with their c-shaped hems, and he has to take a few minutes just looking at himself bent over. He’ll be dropping a few pencils in these.

The final pair, are Dan’s favourites. The waistband is thin, practically just an elastic band around the sharp jut of his hips. The rest is silk and smooth and white, and Dan has to tuck himself against his belly instead of trying to fit himself within the thin strip of fabric, but it’s no problem because of how hard he already is in them. Because the waistband is adorned by a strip of lace, frilly and long and in the prettiest baby pink, almost like a tiny, tiny skirt or a fairy tutu all around him, covering just the very top of his plump butt. There’s also two tiny pink bows adorning each of his thighs, like mistletoes, like someone just needs to always be there cherishing them with kisses and bites and he feels like a princess. He’s sure he looks like one too.

He carefully rubs himself outside of his knickers, scared to make a mess but gets a thrill from the feeling, bites his bottom lip and goes to lie down on his bed to carefully stroke himself. He makes small noises, mere whispers and whimpers as he presses his legs together. When he comes, panting in little stuttering breaths, he thinks about Phil, how much he’ll love his little surprise when he goes to his tomorrow night.

How much he’s very much allowed to make a mess of both them and him.

 

 

 

PJ is the first one to notice, and he does it with a mouth stuffed full of a cheese sandwich. “You seem spaced all the way out today. Trying to zone out from the harsh reality that is the fashion choices you made this morning?”

It stings, oh it does, but Dan still feels fairly confident because underneath his distressed skinny jeans and too big white tee, he’s wearing his pretty red knickers with lace running along the seams. 

Unfortunately, this causes his reply to just be a long content hum.

So PJ boxes his arm. It breaks his position with his elbow propped on the table and almost has him landing chin-first on the hardass wooden surface, probably just about a millisecond of a reflex away from having an entire row of teeth knocked out. Great for blowies, he’s sure, but. However.

PJ waves his arms around. “Jesus christ, man! You got dick, I get it. We all get it!”

“What?” Dan asks, too confused, too love drunk and slightly too turned on by the feeling of lace brushing roughly against his inner thigh.

Louise leans in across her plate, the heroine Dan never deserved but for some reason or another always got. Blessed, he is. Proper blessed. “Oh, Peej, leave him be!”

She taps his hand turned into a fist on the table like the Arthur meme repeatedly. 

When PJ turns his head to her she leans in even closer, and Dan stupidly thinks for a moment that it’s for her to keep quiet, but then instead her voice gets high and giddy like she’s obscenely gossiping about that slut Samantha from textiles, or the Queen: “Our little Daniel is in love!”

She slaps her hand over her mouth and _cackles_ , PJ unable to keep his straight face and responding with an equally as excited giggle.

And. Suddenly. It dawns on Dan what just happened. 

They’re in the school cafeteria. Louise may have just asked him what went down last friday after the show when he left to go to Phil’s, and Dan may have just forgotten to respond as he was sitting with his elbows propped on the table, head resting in his hands, looking _dreamily_ over at a certain sparkly-eyed and leather-jacket-wearing boy at his table where he’s sat with his much-cooler-and-older-than-Dan friends. 

God fucking dammit.

“Sorry,” Dan mumbles low, smearing his hands over his face. “Sorry. Fuck.” 

“Hey now, no worries!” Louise pipes in cutely, rubbing Dan’s back. He groans into his palms. “Now, now. You’re alright, love. Everyone already knows you like each other anyway.”

“Yeah! Thanks to a certain _someone_ ,” Dan scoffs, side eyeing PJ, “texting everybody what I told Louise _in confidence_.”

PJ holds his hands up in defense.

Dan rolls his eyes. “It’s kind of like a work in project being released too early, you know that? What if we didn’t work out, imagine that baggage. I’m some random pastel scum slash annoying drama kid cumdumpster, whichever description is worse, and then he’s just. Wonderful. Fuck.”

“I swear to god you said the same thing about Marcus.”

“Oi! Marcus had abs of steel. Tasty but not cozy to cuddle on. Phil has the whole deal.”

PJ snorts a laugh. “You should write a love poem. A haiku? Wait, no, make it into a rom com. 3 hours, black and white. Rated 2 on Netflix.”

“You guys,” Louise cries out suddenly. “I can’t keep up with this banter.”

“Neither,” PJ says, turning back to Dan. “I’m totally kidding, by the way. Phil is great. If anything, I think I’m a bit jealous.”

Dan blinks at him. 

Louise smiles and pats his shoulder. “I send you my blessings, Dan, I really do. I can tell how much you like him.” She looks at PJ, looking like she might combust with giggles. “I think everyone can.”

Dan slams his head down on the table and groans. “It’s disgustingly obvious, innit? I’m so fucking smitten it should be _illegal_.”

Louise hums, munching on her sandwich. “Isn’t it still illegal in some countries? And US states?”

“Gay marriage is,” PJ corrects.

“Yeah,” Dan confirms. “Or was, at least. Or will be. Fucking Donald Trump, I vote Harvey Milk any day of the week.

When no reply comes, he raises his head. Louise’s mouth has turned into a straight line.

Dan looks at PJ. PJ looks back deadpan.

Dan’s mouth falls agape. “You’re _kidding_ me? First openly gay man elected for office? 1970’s? San Francisco? Had a _movie_ made about his _life_?”

They shake their heads in unison.

Dan sits up properly and smears his hands over his face again. “Oh, my God. We’re having a history lesson later.”

“Fine with me, Daniel, but for _now_ ,” she points her sandwich at him, “would you _please_ tell me how last friday went?”

“Yeah,” PJ says, sipping the straw in his drink. “What’d his parents think of him bringing home some, what was it, pastel cumdumpster? Twink scum?”

“You thought of twink yourself, but I’ll take it. And they didn’t say anything. Wasn’t even there. Thing is, I don’t think he’s out to them?” He rubs his temples. “Fuck. I hate that concept. It’s 2017, why can’t I just be expected to introduce this cuteass boy I like to my friends, to my parents, wine and dine him then-”

PJ sputters. “Dude, I always knew Phil was gay.”

Dan thumps his hands down onto the table. He furrows his brow like, _bitch no_. “You can’t just _know_ that, PJ. It’s totally illogical and feeds stereotyping and the heteronorm.” His rant is about to go on, but then realisation settles like dust off a shaken old mat. Probably a more literal metaphor to how he feels than you may think. “You… you set us up?”

PJ shrugs a shoulder. He swirls his straw in his fizzy drink. “I just knew he did makeup for parties. You set yourselves up. Pretty sure he was mad about you to begin with.” Dan looks at him like he can’t believe him. “Listen, all I know is that he was definitely always there watching you perform. And he definitely always snuck a glance at you when you didn’t see, and like, he had this real _interesting_ expression when he’d just spent time with you.”

“Especially after a makeup session,” Louise confirms, then she wiggles her brows. “Lots of touching, I can imagine. It was hilarious to see, it really was.”

Dan’s gaze shifts over to Phil again, laughing so that his tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth to something his friends just said. Dan likes him a lot. He really, really, awfully does.

And it was only last saturday they woke up tangled in each other, the spare mattress abandoned on Phil’s floor as Dan had bravely climbed up into Phil’s bed, into Phil’s arms, asked him to explain more about Tarantino’s wild genius after their binge watch of Kill Bill with pizza and cuddles, and then fallen asleep just like that. But it’s monday today. It’s monday, and mondays are shit, and all Dan wants is for Phil to hold him like that again and make all the troubles in the world go away.

“Alright. Well.” Dan sips his drink, eyes still fixated at Phil. Then he realises what he’s doing and angrily bites his straw, looking down at the table instead. No blowies. Bad Dan. “Did we just establish we’re forever meant to be and I shouldn’t care what anyone thinks of it?”

Louise slaps his arm. “That’s what I’ve been telling you all along!”

“Yeah, well. I need some rougher treatment than your flowery rainbow Buddha stuff.” He scrunches his nose up. “Ew. Not like- ehm. Flowery rainbow stuff is very much appreciated too, just-”

“No more!” PJ begs, hands over his eyes.

“I just like, need something to philosophe about. Something horrible and sad. Like, hit me with some Nietzsche sayings or something.”

“God is dead,” Louise supplies good-naturedly.

“Ah. A great concept.” Dan leans back, looking smart. He clasps his hands in front of himself. “The idea is how if God is no longer applied to society, the rules of the Bible aren’t either. Therefore there’s no motivation to follow morals. Such as,” he looks over at their table, “such as, that man shouldn’t lay with man, right? God isn’t there to stop you, you won’t be sent to Hell because none of it exists, so in theory, you can just do whatever the hell may please you because you won’t be punished for your bad behaviour and no one else will care either.” 

He looks back to them, and they stare at him dumbfounded because, alright, cool, but neither of them ever took philosophy. Dan just looks this shit up on Wikipedia late at night.

Then PJ grabs his tray, shuffles to stand up and Dan goes to do the same, only a tad bit embarrassed (though glad he successfully dodged discussing their love life?), but then he says:

“The world is overpopulated anyway.”

Dan has good friends. Dan _still_ needs to stop throwing diva tantrums.

 

 

 

Dan finds Phil alone in the art room. It’s really no surprise to anybody. 

He’s in all black, his glasses balancing on the very tip of his nose and he’s very much focused on working on the same watercolour painting as before. A blue and purple landscape, possibly. Dan doesn’t know because Dan doesn’t take art, but he knows as much as to not look over someone’s shoulder at what they’re working at. Totally ruins the vibe. So, without peeking, he sneaks up next to Phil and nudges his arm.

“Phil,” he quips, and Phil drags a bold stroke of his brush across the paper before he looks up at him. It still feels like his heart might skip a beat when he sees the proper blueness of his eyes. Is it possible to fall in love with someone over and over? “Hi.”

His lips curl up into a smirk. “Hello.”

Plopping his brush into the water glass, he grabs ahold of Dan’s hands and tug him into his lap. Dan squeals but sinks down, both legs on one side of his thigh because, well, the art room wouldn’t be the greatest place for two boners needing taken care of. Besides, Dan is saving his surprise for later. Strict celibacy until Phil Lester deems it fit to stick his hands down his pants, and other thoughts he never thought he’d have in his entire life.

“Hi,” Dan says, again, batting his eyelashes, looking down at Phil’s lips. 

Phil grins. “Hi,” he echoes. Then he pecks his lips, stealing Dan’s breath away for just a second. The metal of his piercings feels cold against him. “Did we already say that?”

“Debatable.”

“Surely.” He chases his lips for another taste, and Dan smiles. “Funny running into you here.”

“Oh yeah, total coincidence. Can’t believe we live in the same town and all.”

“Go to the same school...” Phil continues like he’s making a list. “It’s mad.” He rubs his thumb over Dan’s fingers in his hands. They meet each other’s eyes to exchange bright smiles. “Hey. I missed you.”

Dan has melted. Dan is a puddle on the floor. Dan is in the afterlife-- and everything else that just sounds like the understatement of the year. 

“Missed you too,” he mumbles back, kissing him again, more whole-heartedly, deeply. The kind that smacks when it starts and smacks when it’s over. The best kind, possibly. It’s debatable. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Boring stuff,” Phil assures him. His hands slide up Dan’s sides and back, fingertips catching on the hem of his too big white tee, making Dan shudder. 

Dan meets the next kiss with tongue first. Obscenely. (He loves it.)

He pulls back and hums, a thoughtful wrinkle between his brows. “Wish we could have been doing boring stuff together.”

“Much more preferable,” Phil agrees. His hands successfully slip under his shirt. “What’s my pretty little doll been up to then?”

“God,” Dan gasps. He presses his thighs together. “Uh. Fuck. Just been bored, too. Been thinking about you mostly, to be honest.”

“Yeah?” Phil runs his fingers along the sliver of skin where his back meets the waistband of his jeans, so close to his knickers, so close to finding out. Dan is already woozy and breathing a tad bit too heavily. “Excited to go back to mine?”

“Very,” Dan murmurs. He has to stop himself then. Stop all of it. He grabs Phil’s wrists from behind himself, moving them around his body. “And _these_ ,” he pins them to Phil’s chest, “can wait just as patiently as I have until then.”

Phil chuckles half embarrassed, breathy and just as woozy. He leans his head against Dan’s shoulder. “Sorry. You’re just so stupidly irresistible.”

Dan bites his lip, totally seductive, and wiggles his eyebrows. Phil rolls his eyes and releases his grip so that Dan slides towards his death with a squeak before his legs react and steadiest himself on the ground. He spares an angry glare at Phil, but he’s already started packing his painting stuff away, so Dan just huffs and walks off. He sways his hips excessively when he does, and when he peeks over his shoulder, Phil quickly diverts his eyes down at the table again.

A triumphant smile makes its way to Dan’s face. Phil can be a slut for his bum all he wants. It’s fucking _cute_. 

Phil takes so long, carefully washing his brushes and laying them on tissue paper to dry, and Dan is half mesmerized, half bored and impatient. He crosses his arms and cocks his hip. “For your information,” he starts, just as Phil goes to put away his painting, “I don’t in fact have all day.”

Phil smiles at him as he washes his hands. He shakes them off as he walks up to him, takes one second to stop and just look into his eyes and Dan thinks he’ll kiss him better. “For your information,” he says with the sexiest husky voice and Dan licks his lips and let’s them stay parted. They lean in closer. Then Phil quickly reaches around him with cold, wet hands and grabs a handful of his ass. “I think _this_ is all mine anyways.”

Dan automatically gasps and reaches for his wrists, but Phil has already pulled away and is jogging out of the art room, childish yet adorable giggle falling off him like a trace in the air. Dan barely even has a moment to react to it all.

“You are so _dead_ , Lester!” he calls after him, still confused but oddly happy and smiley, refusing to jog but definitely power walking out after him to their lockers.

 

 

 

He’s already grown quite fond of Phil’s house after just one night spent there. And it’s all so awful.

The house is big and spacey, bright and colourful, always has stuff in the fridge and smells like warmth. Dan had the privilege of not having to run into Phil’s parents last time, out when they got there and out by the time he left the next day. He’s had strange run-ins in the past, one of which didn’t know their son was very much bi-curious and took it as that he was proper gay, in proper need of banishing the sin out of him on a hard church floor and Dan didn’t really hear from him again after he stumbled out with one shoe on that morning. But if Phil’s parents somehow combined their geniuses to create Phil, they can only ever be close to half as bad as that time. Logistics.

Dan sits down on Phil’s bed, bright green and blue duvet that totally doesn’t go with anything else he’s chosen to express his identity through. At least Dan’s bed is like this cute creamy lilac or like, purple, whatever.

He plops down opposite him, both of them turning their bodies to the middle of the bed so they face each other. 

“What do you wanna do?” Phil asks him, and Dan wants to slap him.

How is someone simply so sweet and pure they expect you _not_ to immediately have sex as soon as you sit down on a bed in a parent-free house?

Dan shrugs a shoulder, then turns his legs up on the bed, tucking them underneath himself with slight effort. Phil has turned too by this point, and he reaches his arms out for Dan when he knee-walks over to his lap, setting himself down with his legs around his hips. Much more appropriate place for raging teenage boners. 

“Hey,” Dan says, looking down on him.

Phil blinks and smiles. “Hey,” he echoes, and Dan steals a kiss. Puts his hand on his cheek and kisses him so deep he leans backwards, should be close to falling off but then Dan pulls back with a wet smack. Phil’s eyes are wide. “Oh. _Hey_.”

“Uh-huh.” He runs his hand down the side of his neck, watching Phil’s adam’s apple bob. “Can you please move to the headboard so I don’t accidentally kill you?”

“I don’t know,” Phil counters, and somehow his hands are around his thighs, hooking under the back of them and pulling Dan closer to himself, “I’m pretty comfy like this.”

Dan bites his lips together to not make a noise, but something muffled high-pitched still comes out, their crotches flush together and Phil’s hands burning on him. 

_He wants it to be skin-on-skin._

Phil looks into his eyes quickly before leaning forward, as if asking if it’s okay but it just sets Dan’s entire body on fire. He attaches his lips to his neck, licks warm thick strokes of his tongue over the spot that feels the best, nuzzles his face in and nibbles and sucks and Dan was turned on enough already just by the fact that he _cares_. 

Then his fingers are travelling upwards. Dan keeps his own on Phil’s back now, clenching hard at the back of his shirt as Phil gets closer, closer, ghosting over his ass and.

He feels the shift when he knows Phil can feel something is different. He puts his hands flat on his bum, over the visible lace lining and. _Squeezes._ Dan gasps most quietly but his dick twitches against Phil’s still.

He kisses him differently then, like he’s focused on something else. His hands continue moving upwards, then they slip under his waistband, into his jeans and doesn’t stop there. He brushes over the lace lining, feels the soft cotton of his pretty, pretty knickers. Dan bites his lip harder and holds his breath.

Then Phil pulls away. Dan freaks out for a second, sits back in case Phil will shove him off but instead he’s met with big dark eyes. Asking for permission. And Dan wordlessly nods.

Phil’s nimble hands move to the button on his jeans, popping it and undoing his zipper. He sees it then. But it’s like he can’t believe it. He stares, lips slightly parted, stares at the red and the lace, and he quickly moves to peel them off the rest of the way. 

Then his hands just sort of hover in the air by his sides.

Dan is still motionless, looking at him expectantly. Trying to read his face. Then Phil finally tilts his head up to meet his gaze, and his eyes are sort of. Dan isn’t sure.

“Take your jeans off,” he orders, and that’s that.

Dan steps off the bed, not bothering to make much of a show because of his nerves still beating him up about this whole thing, but somehow it still becomes one because his jeans catch on his hips and he has to wiggle out of them, and they’re so tight he has to slip them off his feet before he can throw them in a corner. 

Then he stands there. 

Too big white tee and too small red knickers.

And Phil swallows thickly.

He reaches his hand out. “Come.”

Dan does. He walks back to him as Phil slides up the bed, resting against the headboard by the time Dan is in his lap again. Strange as it is, Phil didn’t get to see, well, _him_ , last time. The first time was just Phil, and a dressing room, and Dan’s red dress covering him up when he got himself off, and the second time was in just their boxers. 

Now he feels exposed. Like it’s too much, yet not enough. Tucked up against his hip, fabric stretched sheer and head of his dick peeking out. And Phil is still just staring.

“Fucking say something,” Dan grumbles, close to shaking.

And the way Phil clears his throat, takes a sharp breath before hesitating, lets him know he feels it too. “Fuck.”

Dan waits for more, but.

He breathes out a laugh and tips his head forward. “Agreed.”

“Oh.” Dan looks back at him and Phil is still sort of wide-eyed. “You want to?”

And. Oh. 

He hadn’t really thought that far, to be quite honest. Or well, he’d obviously _thought_ about it, _obviously_ , quite a _lot_ but he thinks that’s to be expected. He just hadn’t given it a whole elaborate plan from A to Z like with most usual things in his life.

“I. Uh.” He stops and laughs nervously, lets it all out of his system, then he leans down over Phil until their hot breaths hit each other. “Yeah. God. Want you.”

Phil crashes their lips together. Dan moans into the kiss, one hand finding his cheek again as the other one holds his body up against the wall. Phil’s hands find his waist, rubbing up and down slowly, tentatively. Then one is slipping around his front.

He grazes his package, so butterfly-light Dan nearly squirms, and he pulls away just to gasp. Phil rubs his hand harder then, drawing a sharp breath.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so wet.”

Dan clenches his eyes shut when he shudders. He can’t believe half the things that does to him, can’t believe half the things Phil do to him. So he just whimpers helplessly and leans closer, sinks into him because he’s so addictive.

“So wet for me,” Phil continues, rubbing up and down the middle of his knickers, up and down in between his thighs like it’s, like it’s. _Oh, god._ “Got your pretty little pussy so excited.”

Dan bites his neck desperately and Phil gasps, but never once stops rubbing him, precum soaking through and darkening the fabric.

Dan could probably come from just hearing him talk.

He brings his other hand up to his mouth, but hesitates until Dan moves back and sees Phil is looking at him instead. Dan nods carefully before he parts his lips and Phil puts two fingers to his lips, slides them easily inside. 

He lets Dan wet them up. He moans obscenely and his eyelids flutter closed, tongue scissoring between the digits until he’s got spit-slick lips and Phil can pull them out with a pop.

“Hell,” Phil mutters under his breath, keeping the eye contact as he moves his hand back, under the waistband of his knickers. “Such a good girl. My pretty baby.”

Dan roughly kisses him again because he doesn’t know what else to do. He wants everything from him, all of it, all at once if possible and his whole body arches with it when Phil’s finger grazes his entrance, rubbing his index finger over the rim. 

“ _Ahh,_ ” he squeals, squeaks, he _something_ s, and Phil pushes in to his knuckle.

He instantly crooks his finger, and Dan feels his second one ghosting his sensitive skin but he doesn’t make any more effort than that, just carefully nudges the finger already slipped in as he kisses his hair softly. 

“This okay?” Phil asks him, and Dan doesn’t answer. Phil moves back and looks him in the eyes. “Dan? Are you okay?”

And he just. “Mmh. My pussy’s so tight.”

And. It’s a whine, it is. Brow furrowed and lips bitten raw. Desperate, tiny, like the pretty boys in the self-made webcam videos that came up when he searched for “sissy” on gay porn sites the previous night. 

He swears he sees Phil’s pupils dilate. 

“Yeah,” he huffs, finally, voice husky. “Ah, sorry. My poor kitten, I’m sorry. Go slow?”

“No.” Dan buries his face in his neck, breathing in the scent of his coconutty moisturizer and Diesel cologne, the most perfect boy in the world. “Want you.”

They need lube, is the thing, because moving isn’t exactly working out and Dan is pretty sure Phil knows this. He’s contemplating just asking out loud when Phil reaches over to his bedside drawer, lazily knocking things about as Dan mouths over his neck. 

When he finds what he’s looking for he tugs Dan’s jeans down to his knees, holds his knickers out and drizzles cold, cold lube down on his fingers, making Dan hiss when it slides along his skin. Then he pushes his second finger in.

Dan arches his back, panting hotly against Phil’s neck and clenching his hands in his T-shirt. He’s fingered himself countless times and had toe-curling and mind-exploding orgasms, but Phil’s fingers fill him up so nicely, and it makes butterflies in his tummy flutter knowing his beautiful boy is working him open for him, being so gentle so he can fill him up with his nice big cock.

“Your pussy _is_ tight, god,” Phil murmurs, pumping his fingers, gliding easily along now. “Will feel so good around me.”

Dan whines and moans all the same, hips thrusting involuntarily and it has him rubbing up against Phil’s, Phil’s grip on him tightening. He keeps rocking his hips a little more until he’s proper riding his fingers and grinding him, filthy sounds bouncing between them.

“Need you inside me,” Dan pants suddenly and, suddenly, he’s very eager about that. “Condom. Fuck.”

“What?” Phil breathes and slips his fingers out when Dan leans over to loot his bedside drawer. “Babe! I could have private stuff in there.”

“Like fucking what? This where you keep your bad dragon dildo and animal bone collection?”

Phil blinks at him, fights a dazed smirk. “Those are very different things.” He reaches over and slips up a condom like he knew exactly where it was and Dan realises his defeat. He sits back down and starts on Phil’s zipper, Phil tearing the wrapper open with his teeth, still looking at him. “Ride me?” he asks, fumbling with it to roll over his cock once it’s out of his pants. “Or missionary? Lie so prettily on my bed?”

Dan bites his lip and can’t fight a blush. He looks down on Phil’s cock in his hand, lazily stroking it up and down, thick and long, and he wants all of it in so many ways he doesn’t know where to start. 

When no answer seems to be on its way, Phil nods. “We’ll start there,” he decides and reaches for the lube again. “Lie down please, sweetie.”

Dan nods shyly and carefully lies back on the bed. He doesn’t know what’s with him right now. He’s usually so loud and ready to voice his opinion to get his way, and, fuck gender roles, so that can’t be what’s making him act like this. 

_Maybe I’m so turned on I’m literally dissociating_ , he wonders as he slowly draws his shirt up, exposing more of his knickers. _Maybe this is subspace_.

“I’ve got you,” Phil murmurs then as he crawls up to him, as if he can read his mind. He can hear all the secrets he keeps. “You’re okay, kitten. So pretty. My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

Dan whimpers and parts his legs more for him. Phil’s hands grazes his hips, further down to his thighs, making them quiver. He moves his fingers to the inside of them, to the soft smooth skin and finds his knickers. He hooks his finger in them and moves them to the side, exposing Dan’s bum and Dan whines and turns his head to the side, nuzzles it into the sheets.

“Gorgeous,” Phil whispers, drizzling lube over his cock. He moves closer, knees on either side of his hips, Dan’s bent legs around him. “Tell me immediately if you need to stop. I want you to feel good.”

He rubs the head of his cock over Dan’s entrance, making Dan whine louder and he brings his hand up to bite at his knuckle. He keeps his eyes closed and his head to the side, feeling Phil slip up and down and tease him, and he’s about to beg him to please get inside him when he feels the burning sting of Phil pushing in, stretching him around his width. Dan clenches his eyes shut, brow furrowed and he bites harder on his knuckle.

“Fuck,” Phil gasps shakily, announcing he’s completely inside him. His hands are careful on his thighs, caressing him up and down soothingly, making Dan think of something else than the discomfort. “You okay? Green light or red?”

Dan looks up at him, finger still in his mouth. Phil looks done for already.

“Yellow,” he says truthfully, voice tiny. He grips at the front of his T-shirt and looks up at him through his eyelashes. “So, wait or just, um. Tell me how pretty I am for a sec?”

Phil chuckles breathily, part relieved but part something else, and he leans down over Dan with the most careful movement he can not to make it uncomfortable while Dan adjusts. He kisses his neck, working his way up his jawline and Dan moves his hand to entwine in Phil’s hair as he brings their lips together.

“The prettiest little girl in the world,” Phil says between kisses, slowly dragging out of him again. “Your pussy feels so good around me. So good and tight.” He pushes in again, bit faster, and it makes Dan wince as a tiny, light sound is emitted from him. He grips his hair harder as Phil kisses him again. “You mean so much to me. So, so perfect and gorgeous.”

It makes Dan’s heart flutter. Enough to make him bite Phil’s bottom lip and mumble between them: “Fuck it. I’m ready.”

“You sure?” Phil asks, leaning back to look him in the eyes. 

And he melts once again. “Don’t try to sway me,” he says, poking a finger at him. ”Fuck me.”

Phil chuckles again and tips his head down, then he nods. “Alright.” He leans up so he’s sitting the same way again. “Alright. Christ. I feel a bit drunk from you, I think.”

Dan completely agrees, but he’s cut off by the feeling of the slow grind of his hips, not all that uncomfortable anymore. He moans when Phil pushes into him, and Phil grabs around his knees, hauling him closer to him so he can thrust in more easily, faster. 

The room gets filled with swift, slick sounds as Phil snaps his hips, most of them punctuated by another shaky, loud moan from Dan as he grips at his tee and the sheets, knuckles turning white. He tips his head back, his mouth a constant o-shape until Phil curves his thrusts just right and hits his prostate.

Then Dan just _implodes_.

“ _Fuck_ , fuck right there,” he squeaks, light and breathy. He hooks his legs behind Phil, trying to draw him in closer but his thighs are quivering, weak and useless. “Oh my _god_ , please, please, don’t _stop_.”

Phil doesn’t. He ruts faster into him, angling his thrusts perfectly and Dan loses it, doesn’t know just how many embarrassing high-pitched sounds escape him. He fumbles for his dick, draws it out of his knickers and runs his hand around it, using his precum as slick as he jerks faster. He feels warmth in his tummy, an orgasm curling and he feels the sweat glistening on his forehead, his fringe going curly and sticking to his skin. 

“I’m close, angel, fuck,” Phil grunts, being so rough yet so, so good at him. “Can I come in your pretty little pussy, baby doll? Can I?”

And Dan comes so hard. The back-arching, toe-curling and loud kind, spurting ribbons of cum on his tummy and into his hand. He swears he sees stars behind his eyelids and all sounds get muffled out for a second. When he returns to reality, he blinks his eyes open and pants into the sheets, his whole body trembling. 

He turns his head towards the sound of Phil’s voice when he feels his thumb graze his cheek. “You want me to keep going?” 

Dan nods and draws his thumb into his mouth, sucking lazily as Phil bites his lip and looks down, going faster and harder until he comes too, thrusting through the aftershocks before he pulls out and sits back.

He pulls the condom off and chucks it in the bin, then lies down next to Dan. Dan still feels himself trembling and stares up at the ceiling, heart beating fast, but a smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. It breaks out when Phil kisses his cheek from beside him.

“You back?” he asks and Dan scrunches his nose up in half annoyance, half amusement.

“Never left,” he says and pushes at Phil’s arm. “Wouldn’t have wanted to miss a second of it.”

“Ooh? Cheeky old self too, I see.” 

Dan shrugs. “You’re the other way around, innocent like this and a proper beast when we fuck,” he rambles, “so I dunno which one of us is worse then. I mean I think it’s time you take a nice long bath in some holy water. Not that I’d know, obviously.”

Phil wraps his arms around him and Dan smiles, lies his head on his chest. “You made me very happy today. Now shut up and cuddle with me.”

He complies far too easily because he’s just far too fucking smitten.

 

 

 

“What’s his name?”

Phil looks up from his laptop and _Finding Prince Charming_ , the gayest dating show you can possibly imagine.

“Robby.”

“Robby. I like Robby. He’s fun.”

“I do believe that is his entire thing, yes.”

“He’s got a little Louis Tomlinson over him. Loud and witty but handsome as all hell.”

“ _Hey_.”

Dan giggles and snuggles closer to Phil’s chest. “What? Didn’t say I thought he was the _most_ handsome one. Look at Paul, like, _fuck me_. He looks a bit like you.”

“I should get grey hair, should I?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Would suit you.” He pauses the show and sits up more properly beside Phil in his bed. “And grow some scruff. I’d love some beard burns to go with the love bites on my thighs.”

Phil cocks a brow. “Don’t think I’ve given you any there yet?”

Dan smirks mischievously. Phil catches on about eight seconds later when Dan has straddled him and is working his pants down over his knickers.

 

 

 

It’s hard not to tell anyone about it. Like, he likes getting stuff out of his system, not in a way of bragging or anything but just to not have his mind cramped with a thousand and one more thoughts than normal. It’s not good for his beauty sleep.

He doesn’t want to say anything because like, for one, nobody should need to know, his life is his own and their _love_ life isn’t exactly what he’d consider normative, despite his own very open mind and non kink-shaming mentality. It’s their own little secret, which makes it the more hot and enticing. He’ll keep it that way until things settle and he’s figured shit out. Second, the fact he still doesn’t really know where they stand, if they’re _dating_ or if they’re just _fucking_ , if he should wait for Phil to be comfortable and take the initiative to make it official or if they should just test the waters. 

But it doesn’t really matter to Dan what they are. Title or no title, he’d rather be his bootycall than be his nothing at all. 

When Dan is sat reading a new script in the auditorium, chewing on a pencil next to Louise who’s on her laptop doing some classwork, Phil comes up behind Dan. And it’s, like, totally unexpected and he totally freaks out just a bit, and the fool could have totally even taken a swat to the face hadn’t he wrapped his arms around Dan, trapping him while nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck. So that all that comes out of Dan instead of a fist-fight is just a faint scream.

Louise jerks and stares wide-eyed at them, soon settling and instead breaking out in laughter, hand on her chest.

“God, you scared me!” she exclaims, panting.

“Horrifying, aren’t I?” Phil murmurs against Dan’s neck as he struggles to wiggle free. He eventually lets him up and instead leans his chin against his shoulder, looking at Louise. “How ridiculous do we look right now?”

She smiles but furrows her brow all the same. “On a scale?” she asks.

“Oh god, there’s a scale?” Dan whines, successfully unwrapping himself from Phil’s arms, huffing a breath from the effort. “Let’s just, not.”

“Well if we start with the clothes-”

“Oh my _god_.”

“I just mean,” she starts, silently begging for Dan to settle down with some gentle hand gestures as she tries to speak to Phil over him, “it’s _funny_ , like, not like oh man this is so ridiculous I just want to laugh, but it’s kind of cute I guess? I mean you’re basically polar opposites, like black and white except well, I think Dan prefers colours? As long as they’re pastels, right, babes? So it’s cute you go so well together.”

“Like we complete each other?” Phil supplies. 

She smiles big. “I’d say so, yeah! Dan can get quite dark, personality and mood wise - just between us two, I mean,” she lowers her voice at the last part and Dan grumbles and hides his face in his arms on the table, “and then you’re just constant smiles and giggles. Like the moon and the sun. Except for the exterior. Then you’re the opposite. I like it, it’s like a weird art project.”

Phil hums thoughtfully, and Dan thinks for a second she just inspired his graduation project, but then he leans forward and pinches Dan’s already flushed cheek. “And I love you to the moon and back, you hear?”

Dan flails his arms in his general direction. Phil takes a step back.

“Ah well, thank you, Louise. That was really kind of you to say.” He smiles and she returns it. “Tell Dan I said hi. I don’t think he’s available right now.”

“I will,” she promises softly. “See you.”

“Bye.”

He turns his heel and walks off, but then Dan snaps up. He curses under his breath, rushing up behind Phil before he manages to exit the auditorium and grabs his arm. When Phil turns back to him, Dan is pouting and furrowing his brow.

Phil cocks a brow. “Miss me already, do you?”

Dan pouts more and closes the gap between them. He makes grabby-hands in the air. “Kiss.”

Phil smiles. He leans forward and Dan relaxes as he kisses him, slow and soft and absolutely lovely, and Dan’s eyes may just flutter closed from the feeling and sensation of his warmth and scent, long overdue from a moderately stressful day.

When they’ve drifted away, Phil looks at him for so long before he turns the way he’s walking he almost walks straight into the door, stumbling to the side and smiling sheepishly over his shoulder. Dan snorts a laugh, waving him bye while biting his lip. And if his concentration level drops a good 93% after that and he never manages to finish reading his script, he doesn’t think anyone can blame him.

 

 

 

He calls Phil up while he’s already walking over there after school the next afternoon. He picks up at the second ring, voice cute and raspy and Dan asks if it’s okay he comes over.

“My mum’s home, actually,” Phil says, and Dan feels a pang in his chest. “If you want, I mean… She’s really nice. My friends always say so.”

“Well I’m already on my way, so, you know,” Dan starts. “And I know that sounds totally sarcastic like, ‘oh well I already booked my ticket’ but, I seriously, genuinely am, like, two streets away. Over in a minute.”

“Fuck, I love how good you are at planning,” Phil murmurs seductively. 

“Yeah, well. I thought about you a lot during class and just kind of hoped if I knocked for long enough you’d let me in, I guess.”

“Oh, talk dirty to me, baby,” Phil continues jokingly. “I’ll be at the door.”

“See you in a bit,” Dan says. He almost tells him he loves him before he hangs up, which. Which would have maybe been the biggest flop of the century, he’s not sure. 

When Phil opens the door for him, Dan almost faints at the sight of him in grey trackies and a big black T-shirt, nerd glasses on and hair pushed back. He got off school a good two hours before him so he’s had time to be lie around and be comfy, probably playing that old DS game he found and has been obsessing over. (Again, _nerd_.) 

Dan looks beside him, around his tall figure, then smirks with proper mischief and reaches up to push their lips together. Phil moans in surprise and stumbles backwards, and Dan kisses him and kisses him until he realises he’s pushed them to the end of the hall and right into view for the kitchen. The kitchen, in which a lady is sat, turned to the side.

Dan’s eyes widen, pulling back quickly and hopes she won’t be able to tell, what with the whole facing-the-other-direction thing but, unfortunately, but hilariously enough, this is one of those kisses that smacks when it starts and smacks when it ends. Dan is good at those. He clasps a hand over his mouth, as if that would fucking help.

The lady turns to them, and she smiles so big. “Oh, hello, love! Are you Dan?”

She’s got big copper red hair, friendly bright eyes and a nose just like Phil’s. She gets up from her newspaper and walks up to Dan.

“Uh, oh. Sorry, yeah, that’s me. Hi.” He shakes the hand outstretched to him.

“I’m Phil’s mum,” she supplies, as if Dan’s poor heart hadn’t already figured that out during its heart attack moment. “It’s very nice to meet you finally. Now, do you like cookies with chocolate chip or just plain?”

“ _Finally_?” Dan murmurs under his breath, more so directed at Phil, who cuts him off with a: “He’s fine, mum, thank you. We’re going to my room.”

“I’d just want to make sure he eats,” she says, looks bewildered over his figure and goes to reach a finger out to, apparently, poke on his stomach but Phil hooks a finger in a strap on Dan’s jeans and tugs him backwards. “You’re so thin, boy. Would you like to have dinner here?”

“Um, no th- _anks_ ,” Dan squeaks at the end, Phil’s fingers now slipped past his waistband. “I’ll just, uh, be right back out again, I think. Got some school work to look over with Phil, is all.”

“Well you just tell me if you need anything,” she says, smiling. “And Phil, dear, take nice care of him now, alright? He seems a nice enough young lad. Have him a crumpet with tea if he wants.”

Phil hums a reply and slips his fingers out, instead placing them on a very much flustered Dan’s lower back to push him along, up the stairs to his bedroom.

Once inside, Phil closes the door behind them after Dan has strutted past. He sighs and leans against it, smearing his hands over his face. “Sorry. So, so sorry about that- that whole _thing_.”

Dan stands there in front of him, no expression. He doesn’t speak.

“She’s really passionate about me having friends that aren’t serial killers or that look like ones,” Phil explains. “Suppose that’s fairly common. Uhm, are you breathing?”

He barely is. He nods and clears his throat. “Phil, I-- uh. Shit. I said I’d be leaving soon?”

He stops there, tries to see if Phil can figure it out. He can’t. 

But his eyes go wide when Dan drops to his knees in front of him. “I was thinking…” He looks up at him through his eyelashes. “Should we find out how fast I can make you come?”

Phil’s jaw hangs slack with astonishment, and, hopefully, the tiniest bit arousal. He barely even reacts before Dan is tugging his trackies down his thighs with his lip drawn into his mouth. When he does react, his head just falls back against the door. “Jesus christ.”

“Wanna make you come,” Dan murmurs absently, rubbing over his hardening dick in his black boxers. “Mmh. Wanna make you feel good.”

Phil has been doing so much for him, making him feel so perfect and loved, he hopes he returns the favour even just slightly as he looks up at him with big, adoring eyes, hands cherishing and lovingly gentle on his swelling package. Phil snaps his mouth shut and nods quickly. 

Dan smirks and draws his cock out of his pants, already so big and thick for him. He licks along the side, a long wet stroke that ends with a flick on the head, and Phil’s hips involuntarily twitch. He works his hands up and down, slowly, adoringly, mouthing at the head or licking along the underside as he grows in his palm. 

Then he takes him into his mouth, when it’s big and curved and wet for him and Dan gets off on the thought of that he’s making him feel this turned on. He gropes for his own dick in his half-silk half-lace white knickers of the day while he hollows his cheeks and sucks, a long string of spit connecting them when he pulls off for a breath and he collects it with his tongue when he goes down on him again.

“Oh, god,” Phil moans, hand finding his curls and he’s awarded by a low moan from Dan. He tugs on his hair. “We’ve got to be quiet, baby. And quick, remember?”

Dan does remember, so he switches gears. He bobs his head, looking up at Phil’s face through his lashes, sees his expression change as he goes faster, slicker and sloppier, jerking him with his hand where his mouth doesn’t reach as he thumbs at his own head in his pants.

“Fuck my mouth,” Dan says then, muffled around him, moves his hand to his hip as the other works in his pants.

Phil obliges, both hands in Dan’s hair as he starts thrusting, obscene sounds between them as Dan tries to relax his throat (experienced, he is) and make it feel as good for his beautiful boy as he can. He keeps his eyes on his, brow furrowed and lips stretched around him, hitting the back of his throat repeatedly.

Phil, a normally functioning teenager, doesn’t take long to be taken to the edge when Dan knows he’s intentionally pushing all his buttons. “Shit, baby, so pretty. I’m gonna come.”

Dan leans back and pops off him. “Come on my face,” he says instantly, voice hearse. He jerks both his hands, all attention on him, going between making screwing motions along his shaft to jerking at the head. “Come on. Make a mess on me. All yours.”

Phil’s breath stutters and he nods. He grabs his dick from Dan and jerks it himself, shuffles a bit closer as Dan chants “give it to me, give it to me” under his breath. His hips twitch and he tugs hard on Dan’s hair. “Ah, fuck, here you go, baby.” 

He tips his head back, back arching and Dan looks up at him, fluttering his eyelashes. He shoots his load with a low groan, landing mostly quite perfectly on Dan’s parted lips, on his outstretched tongue, but also on his flushed cheek and chin. “More,” Dan whines when he’s done, “more.”

Phil tucks himself back in his pants and kneels down in front of him. He pushes two fingers into Dan’s mouth, making him suck what spilled on them as well as swallow what’s already on his tongue. Dan looks at him with big, dark, glassy eyes as he collects the rest of what’s on his face with his thumb, making Dan greedily suck it up as well. Phil reaches forward and kisses him then, deep and sloppy, tongue and teeth and then Dan feels him in his knickers. 

Dan tries to bite back a whine but can’t, buries his face in his neck and tries to not get any spit or cum or whatever else on him but probably fails that, too. Phil jerks him off, wet and already so hard it aches, so close to the edge.

“This okay?” Phil asks carefully, stroking his arm soothingly up and down with his other hand. “With the whole, um.”

“Fucking don’t stop,” Dan whimpers breathlessly. He clenches his hands in the back of his T-shirt. “Oh, fuck, fuck fuck _fuck_.”

His hips jerk when he comes, whining lightly and desperately, and Phil collects it all in his hand.

He holds him while he comes down from his high, trembling and weak even though he’s still standing strong and kneeling there, and he doesn’t realise until like a whole minute later how Phil is sucking on his neck, fucking _harshly_.

“ _Phil_ ,” he whines, pushing him off. He touches over the sore spots. 

“What? No one will see,” Phil promises with a sly smile, letting go of the collar of his T-shirt. He’s right. They’re mostly over his collarbone area. “Suits you, anyway. My pretty princess.”

He grins big and Dan rolls his eyes, ignores the feelings it sends off inside him and takes support on his shoulders as he hauls himself up. He tugs his jeans back over his hips. “I’ll go wash my face now, you messy, messy boy.”

Dan puts his hand on the doorknob but Phil sits in the way with a pout. “You said I could,” he complains. 

Dan motions in the air for him to move with a fake annoyed expression and Phil eventually gets up, stepping aside.

“I hate to see you go,” Phil says as he passes him, smacking his bum, “but I love watching you leave.”

He giggles when Dan flips him off.

When he’s in the bathroom having splashed some cold water on his face and is toweling it dry, Phil comes in and stands behind him, snaking his arms around his middle.

“I think we started at the wrong end of the scale,” Dan says suddenly.

“How you mean?” 

“We started kinky, but today we were practically vanilla,” he continues, turning around in his arms. He pouts. “Babe, are we an old married couple?”

“Not quite there yet”, Phil reasons as he sports a thoughtful expression. He pecks Dan’s lips. “Think my mum really likes you, though. Important to have a strong bond with the in-laws.”

Dan hums, kisses him again before he escapes his grip and exits the bathroom.

“I think she does too,” he murmurs proudly as he heads for the stairs. 

He thinks it’s fair enough to end it there and leave, but something within him makes him stop. That’s deep. Or potentially very naughty.

He turns around again, and Phil looks so fucking beautiful, he can’t help himself.

“Are you... out?”

Self control, Daniel Howell. _Self control_.

He sees the way Phil’s expression changes, sees the way he tries to cover up how wounded he just got with fake confusion. “What?” 

But Dan can hear the secrets he keeps.

“I mean.” He sighs and walks quickly back to him, scared he’s talking too loudly and that his mum might hear. “Out, like, are you… Outside of school, does anyone know you’re not that into girls?” He breaks out a breathy laugh at that. “Well, ehm, I guess that’s-- you know what I mean. Does anyone know you’re - whatever you define as, as you like me?”

Phil looks like he’s clenching his teeth. 

Dan pops his lips. “I guess this is all granted that you do _like_ me.”

“Oh, god. Dan, of course I bloody do.” He shakes his head and closes the gap between them, holds him the same way with his arms around his lower back. Dan looks down at his chest. “Just, uhm. Never put that much thought into it, I guess. With a proper coming out. Not to make it a sob story but like, ugh, here goes. I guess I’ve always known I wasn’t like everyone else, right? It would just feel like yet another thing that’s gone wrong with me if I-- I mean, I don’t think it is actually _wrong_ , it’s just what I’ve been telling myself. That this is safer. To hide.”

Dan looks up at him. “That _is_ a sob story,” he mutters. “That’s like, I’ll never walk again.”

Phil snorts a laugh. 

“Yeah, well,” he takes a deep breath, holds it, “I guess at least I’ve got a good crutch, this time around.”

It takes a moment for Dan to understand that, symbolic as it is. Then he smiles big. “A loud and annoying literal drama queen for a crutch,” he states fondly. “Listen. I know I’m a handful, so I don’t want to pressure you into doing something if you’re not comfortable. I just think you’d be so much happier.”

“Happier with you,” Phil murmurs thoughtfully. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Was always inspired by you anyways, before we even knew each other.”

“No way?”

Phil nods. “You’re like, the first gay person I’ve ever met.”

“That you know of.”

“Oh, and don’t you just _love_ letting people know.”

Dan rolls his eyes, but is interrupted when Phil kisses him.

“Alright,” Phil says when they pull back, licks his lips. “I’ll think about it. Promise. I will.”

Dan leaves after a few more kisses and saying bye to his mum, who sends with him a box of home-made cookies for ‘him and his folks’. 

Him and Phil are just about physically unable to stop texting each other that night. 

 

 

 

It gets gradually harder to not tell anyone. 

It gets harder to not talk all love-stricken about Phil, to not slip it casually into conversation. It gets harder not to not slip in under Phil’s arm and wrap his leather jacket around himself while he lets him squeeze his perfectly plump knicker-clad bum. It gets _very_ hard to not accidentally show everyone his love bites. All shades of purple are now his favourite colours.

It hits him square in his last will to fight when Phil randomly texts him a picture two days after. It appears to be of a thing he’s just been to a shop to buy, as is evident by the crumpled white bag in the back. At first, it looks like two headbands or something. They’re pretty, fluted, pearl white silk with a pretty little baby pink bow on each. He hitches on his breath and nearly jerks in his chair when he realises what it is. Garters. Like. For your thighs. Girly stuff. Pretty garters for a pretty girl’s thighs.

It all settles with him at once like a slap in the face: Phil got him fucking _lingerie_.

A second picture rolls in before he can even begin to formulate a reply, and Dan is already shaking. This one is a garter belt, he already knows given the context, frilly pink lace with white straps, unattached to anything but there’s two white knee socks - _thigh-highs_ , he believes they’re called - with matching baby pink socks on the side of them. 

He got him two things. Two _sets_. Two _lingerie sets_.

Suddenly Louise comes leaning in close and Dan flinches. “ _Shit!_ ” 

He nearly drops his phone in his food, but saves it and quickly puts it back in his pocket. When he looks up, frightened and flushed, Louise gives him a skeptical look. “You okay there?”

Dan almost _screams_ : “I’m obviously very chill thanks why are you asking!”

PJ looks up and him and Louise exchange confused looks. Then they shrug and get back to forking up lasagna.

Dan stares into the distance with a haunted expression. He sneakily gets his phone back up, opening WhatsApp up again.

_Dan:_  
_!!!! I’m in school_  
_you’re so dead_  
_fuck thank you so much_

He tries to conceal a smile as he pockets his phone again and doesn’t check it again until he’s locked himself in the bathroom after lunch, extra sure no one can see.

_Phil:_  
_Parents out til 8ish ^-^_

He rolls his eyes.

_Dan:_  
_ask nicely_

_Phil:_  
_Please Dan my beautiful wonderful boy can I fuck you in nothing but a garter belt and thigh-highs please?_

_Dan:_  
_but I have so many nice knickers_

_Phil:_  
_There’s more than the red ones??_

_Dan:_  
_it was 2 for 3 what was I supposed to do_

_Phil:_  
_Fuck_  
_I mean. Save them for another time_

_Dan:_  
_most enticing promises_  
_I’ll see what I can do ;]_

He gets out of the stall and goes to check his hair in the mirror. It’s perfectly curly and poofy, but he still pushes it up a bit more as he squints his eyes cutely at his reflection, admiring the many freckles on the apples of his cheeks. 

_Dan:_  
_got class. where are u when I want to kiss u?_

_Phil:_  
_Out buying my boyfriend lingerie apparently_  
_Oh ya I may have told my parents you were my boyfriend?_

_Dan:_  
_WHAT_

_Phil:_  
_Talk later bbz you got class :*_

_Dan:_  
_NO PHIL_  
_RIGHT NOW_

But he doesn’t reply. Dan stares at his phone, tries to will another message out of it. But he’s left hanging at _Delivered_.

He leaves for class red-faced. 

 

 

 

He stomps up the stairs to Phil’s room.

“ _Phiiiiiil!_ ”

The front door was unlocked, but it’s not a letting-him-know-he’s-arrived type of loud. It’s a fuck-I-love-you-so-much-but-you’ve-made-me-so-flustered-and-we-need-to-talk-and-like-kiss-a-lot type of loud.

When he breaks through the door to his bedroom, Phil is calmly sat criss-cross applesauce on his bed, a crooked grin on his face. Dan stops abruptly in his tracks. “You called, dearie?”

And. He can’t think of a witty response, because seeing them in real life suddenly makes him feel dizzy. Like, he almost starts groping for the door frame, should he suddenly plunge face-first into the carpet. 

They’re so pretty, the thigh-high stockings and the garter belt, splayed on the sheets in shining brightness, the last golden remains of the sun bathing them in light. A feeling starts twirling inside him, something fuzzy in his stomach and a hardness in his chest. 

That feeling goes straight to his dick, of all places.

He almost succesfully falls straight to his knees just at the sight of them, and maybe a bit because he’s kind of overdue-ready for Phil’s dick (not that anyone should blame him), but steadies himself, takes a sobering breath and walks up to the bed.

“I like your shirt,” Phil says casually.

He watches as Dan traces a finger along the garter belt, the feeling of lace making him shudder. “Do you want me to put them on?”

“No, obviously, that’s why I got you them.”

Dan lolls his head towards him and gives him a long, serious look, then flips him off before gathering the garter belt and thigh-highs in his arms. “Give me a minute.”

“Will you be in your own weird headspace when you return?”

“Funny,” Dan scoffs, walking backwards towards the door again. “I’m sure you love it when I’m not rambling on 24/7.”

“At least we don’t have to talk abou the whole-”

“Hey, no! We’re talking about that.” He points him an accusing finger. “Just. _After_ this, or I’m going to come from just like, being in the presence of these.”

“Too much information,” Phil says, eyes screwed shut but with a smile on his lips. He opens them up and they sparkle with amusement. “But thanks for the mental image.”

Dan snorts and leaves, walking the few steps to the bathroom. 

When he comes back, he can’t deny how the air feels different. _He_ feels different. 

His jumper is still on, white with black stripes all over and long enough to cover him up but bulging out close the hem because of the hardness of him. He’s wearing the garter belt, the flimsy, pretty pink lace poking out, the white straps attached to the stockings, and no underwear. No knickers, no nothing, just his garter belt grazing his skin, his dick curved to touch his tummy. 

Phil doesn’t look like he’s even breathing. 

So Dan keeps walking after his brief stop on the doorstep. He slowly closes the gap between him and Phil, dick bobbing against his jumper. He sits down on the bed, knee first, leaning on his hand. Phil still stares with his lips parted.

Dan smirks. “Hi?”

Phil blinks rapidly, takes a breath to say something. Then stops. “Wait,” is what he settles for, turning around and pulling a black bag out from under his bed. Dan knows what it is. He saw it countless of times while they were still doing Moulin Rouge.

He unzips it from side to side, messing around in its contents until he finds what he’s looking for. He sits back up and holds it up between them, a square black plastic stick. Then he pops the lid off and reveals the garnet red colour. 

Dan watches Phil’s face as he applies it over his lips, drags it gingerly along his bottom lip then to his top one, careful not to go outside the lines except for at his Cupid’s bow (as he’s come to learn it’s called), cutely making it a single round arch. When he caps the lipstick again, Dan drags his lips together without having to be asked to. Phil looks at his lips while he does. “Do you want mascara? Eyeliner?”

Dan nods wordlessly. Phil leans back and finds a liquid eyeliner, black as night which he draws a pretty and thin line with, giving his eyes a wing. He applies mascara just as carefully, none of the smiles and laughs and jokes shared between them anymore, just this thick silence, like it’s the most important moment of their lives.

When he scoots his bag under his bed again, Dan is so hard it hurts. 

Phil reaches forward to his chest, slipping his fingers down the flowy fabric of his jumper. Not ever touching him. He draws it back when he’s almost at the head of his dick, poking at the cloth. “Want to eat you out.”

Dan’s eyes dart up at him. “What?”

“Lie down on your tummy, baby, please,” he says, reaching for lube and a condom. “Hips up. Face down.”

Dan stares at him in awe as he comes back up and lays the stuff on the bed. Then they both freeze. Dan draws a sharp breath, then he nods and turns over. He goes to lie down, but stops himself, standing on his knees. He looks over his shoulder to Phil, then turns his head back and his lips turn up in a secret smile. 

He reaches his hands back, grabbing the hem of his jumper and slowly, slowly pulls it up, over his plump butt where it catches before it jerks up and he pulls on it until it rests over his garter belt. Then, he lies his upper body down.

He looks back at Phil again, head resting on his arms with his bum in the air, totally exposed. He wiggles it, Phil crawling up towards him with his bottom lip drawn into his mouth. 

He settles between his legs, tentatively caressing his ass cheeks with both hands, making Dan whimper into the back of his hand. His thumbs reach in, spreading him apart, kneading his fingers in then he lets one hand go and reaches back quickly for the cherry-flavoured lube. He drizzles it between his cheeks, making Dan jump at the cold. Then his thumb is pressing into him. 

Dan moans, arches his back and Phil puts his face close, breathes hot breath over him then pokes his tongue out. Dan hitches on his breath; it feels hot, warm and wet, a scent of cherry filling the room as Phil works his magic. He’s never had anyone do this to him before. It always seemed like the too-good-to-be-true scenarios only possible in the world of internet pornography.

“Your sweet little pussy tastes like cherry,” Phil drawls, pumping his thumb to the slick sounds of the lube. “So wet and open for me, bet I could fit both fingers and tongue in there.” Dan whines, hips stuttering, and Phil bites at his cheek which makes him whine louder. “Yeah? Wanna try? See how far we can stretch your little cunt?”

Dan nods yes, cheeks already flushed pink, should be matching the colour of his lips if Phil keeps talking like that. Then he smacks his ass. And Dan _cries out_.

“You’re so dirty, baby. Naughty girl.” Phil exchanges his thumb for two fingers, stretching Dan so nicely, he curls his fists into the sheets and spreads his legs more for him. “Gonna make you feel so good. Work my fingers in your pussy then fuck it with my cock.”

Phil fucks him fast and hard with his fingers, slick wet sounds bouncing off the walls until Dan is moaning choked off “ _oh_ ”s and “ _uh_ ”s so loud he’s sure the neighbours can hear. Phil goes so fast, so roughly Dan thinks he’s on the verge of coming. Then he abruptly pulls them out, the harshness exchanged for warm softness, tongueing into him with low moans vibrating throughout his body like electric shocks as Dan sobs and moans into his hands and shivers with it. He’s smearing his lipstick for the wrong reasons when all he wants is to be doing it on Phil’s face, on his cock, do it like last time with him as a slut on the floor, on his knees just for him.

He doesn’t even realise how light and desperate his moans have turned, tiny pants and whimpers and his thighs quivering. Phil replaces his tongue with three fingers instead, squeezing out more lube before pushing in. He fucks him more slowly, grinding it out, curling his fingers until Dan screams out, “ _There!_ ”

Phil keeps nudging at his spot, pushing his tongue in, licking around his entrance at the cherry lube and Dan feels his orgasm nearing in again. “Oh, god, you’re gonna make me come.”

Phil responds at first by pushing harder at his prostate, hitting it perfectly and expertly. “You can come, baby girl,” he mumbles against him, and then he successfully slips his tongue in along his three fingers. Dan moans loud, grabbing his dick and stroking hastily up and down. 

When Phil pulls his tongue out and Dan feels his teeth digging into the flesh of his cheek, rosy the same shade as the cheeks of his face, pumping his fingers as fast as he ever has - it’s what sends him over the edge. He holds his breath as he comes hard into his hand, thrusting into it then panting sharply when it’s over, legs nearly giving in underneath him.

He’s thankful for when Phil pulls out and nudges him with his dry hand so he falls to his side, allowed to rest as he catches his breath again.

Phil lies down over him, smiling and ducking down to kiss the dip between his collarbones. He’s reached for a tissue and dries Dan’s hand, followed by his own. Dan feels like jelly, and he knows very well what look he has on his face right now. Fucked out, glassy eyed and blissed the fuck out. 

He returns the smile lazily and tips his head back as Phil sucks on his collarbone.

“Did you know,” Phil starts, kissing a trail up his neck, “girls can come over, and over, and over again?” He stops in front of his mouth, Dan’s smile fading from his lips to an astonished look, lips parted. His dick twitches. “I want to make you come so much.”

Phil kisses him hard and Dan immediately returns it. 

He’s already fumbling for the condom wrapper, tearing it open and rolling it over himself and Dan immediately grabs him, jerking him off a bit as Phil reaches for the lube and coats himself in it. He knee-walks up to Dan, hooks his arms under his legs and Dan squeals as he pulls at his legs to get him closer until their bodies are flush together. 

“God, look at that,” he says, his hard and reddened cock stroking Dan’s entrance, wet and open for him. “My little princess, been so good to me.”

He thrusts inside, Dan throwing his head back, already getting hard again. He bunches his jumper in his palms, holds them up by the sides of his head. He’s surrendered.

Phil thrusts slowly into him, grinding and finding a pace. It’s slow, and it’s nice. 

Far too slow and nice for Dan’s taste.

“We already did it like this, didn’t we?” Phil murmurs then, and he hoists Dan up. 

It’s a complete surprise, and Dan just gasps helplessly as Phil successfully puts his legs around his shoulders. Just the top of his back and his head rests against the bed, or is rather being pushed into it, bum in the air and legs curled around him. 

“There, that’s better, isn’t it, lovely?”

He thrusts differently, rougher, and Dan wrenches his head to the side and punctuates each thrust with a tiny moan. Phil snaps the elastic between his garter belt and thigh-highs, bringing Dan’s attention back to him.

“This feels good? You like it when I fuck you?”

Dan nods wordlessly, too turned on, pounded into the mattress by the merciless roughness and fast pace of his thrusts. Some sort of whiny noise escape him and he bites his lip.

“What’s that? You like my dick in your pussy? Open it wide for me.” Dan complies, spreads his cheeks for him. “Yeah, just like that, love how you look spread on my cock. Dirty, dirty girl, feel so good around me.”

Dan doesn’t reply, just keeps panting and making high-pitched hiccupy noises, so Phil reaches his hand forward and wraps his fingers around the front of his throat. Not squeezing, just holding it there, being present. Dan gasps loud, then holds his breath.

Phil murmurs quietly over the sounds of their skin slapping together: “Talk to me, baby. Green light?”

Dan cries out. “God, I love your cock,” he whines, near sobbing. “Your nice big cock. Give it to me, give it to me, come on. Harder.” 

He chants on under his breath as Phil speeds up, rabbiting his thrusts, breaking Dan in half. 

“Oh, _fuck_ , that’s it!” Dan cries out. “I can’t get enough of your cock in my pussy. You make me so wet, I’m gonna come all over you.”

Phil groans and slaps his ass, keeps his hand there and squeezes, other hand still resting but his fingers start to tremble.

Phil beats him to it, groaning lowly as he comes into him, releasing the grip on his throat to instead clench his hand in the sheets beside him. He thrusts a few more sloppy times, riding it out, then pulls out and throws his condom in the bin.

Dan lies quivering, so awfully close to the edge but not quite crossing over. Phil lies down in between his thighs, taking him into his hand, making Dan flinch.

Phil reacts instantly. “This still okay?”

“Fuck, yeah just. Please.” Dan intertwines his fingers in his hair. “So close. Please.”

Phil nods, kisses the head carefully before taking him in, going down, bobbing his head to an immediate quick pace. His piercings are barely noticeable, flipped to the side but still there, Dan knows they are and it’s so strangely hot, his orgasm curls in his tummy. Phil runs his fingers over his thigh, catching on the strap and the edge of his stockings, then hooking under his pretty, frilly garter belt, snapping it. When Dan comes, Phil takes it, and takes it, and swallows. 

He lies down next to him, but before that he snatches his pillow from the headboard. He gently lifts Dan’s head up, scoots the pillow under and lays him down. Dan smiles weakly and mouths a thank you.

Phil scoots up next to him, and Dan isn’t sure whether spooning or some sort of cute holding-action should commence, but decides on the latter. He puts his sweater-paws up to Phil’s chest as Phil wraps his arms around him, tucks him under his chin and hugs him tightly. Dan sighs contently, safely returning to reality to the thumping sound of his heartbeat.

When he starts shivering a few ten minutes later, being pantless and all, Phil gets up to find him some jogging bottoms.

“We need to talk about that thing,” Dan reminds him when he returns, measuring up a baggy grey pair with Dan’s small frame. “And are you implying I’m fat?”

“Just making sure these will look perfectly cute and too big for you,” Phil chirps back, handing them to him once he manages to sit up. “Like boyfriend jeans, but comfier.”

“ _Boyfriend_ ,” Dan echoes, wincing as he gets up. He unclips himself from his thigh-highs and slides the garter belt off. “Which I apparently have one of now.”

“Are you complaining?”

He tugs the stockings off, pulls on the bottoms and looks over his shoulder. Phil is sat there, hair a black, tousled up mess, blue eyes big and sparkly with mischief. He’s got a smirk on his lips, spreading over his face as he bites his bottom lip. 

_Actually, it might light up the entire room._

Dan smiles back and sits himself down in his lap, knees on either side of him on the bed. “No.” He kisses him, tastes cherry. “Me and my friends already figured out we’re like, made for each other, so.”

Phil draws back with a frown. “Why are you giving me shit for talking about you if you do it too?”

Dan nuzzles their noses together, grinning childishly. “I’m not. Everyone does. The problem was how you didn’t ask me first. You just assumed I was a slut for your cock which, yes I am, Phil and, yes, I’d very much like to be your boyfriend.”

Phil breaks out into a grin. “Oh. Good.” He kisses him again, hands running up his back. “Because I already changed my relationship status on Facebook.”

“I already bought us a house,” Dan counters, poking his chest. “A nice little cottage in, er. Brighton, or something, I don’t know.”

“Gay capital,” Phil nods. “Impressive.”

Dan pushes him back on the bed, straddling him and showering him in kisses. Then he sits back and just, admires him, the rugged manliness, sharp edges and black and white contrasts, mixed with some teenagy softness only some can reach to. 

“Let me guess,” Dan starts, voice small and sleepy, “you already booked our wedding?”

Phil kisses him again. “Did too.”

Dan smiles back and plops down next to him, letting Phil wrap his arms around him. He yawns and sinks into his side. “Take a nap, then we can go again?”

Phil is stunned for a second. “Right. Just got to fix your makeup first.”

 

 

 

The next day is spent trying to walk. He’s sure it will become a common theme.

Because when he comes to school, people he was sure hated his guts are suddenly sending him cheeky smiles and glances, people that should be older-and-much-cooler-than-him. It takes him a while, and a hug tackle attack from Louise, to realise Phil has literally told all of his friends he’s got a boyfriend, and that this boyfriend is Dan. And suddenly every single current issue in Dan’s life melts away because, as it turns out, no one cares about Dan’s cumdumpster days and his annoying drama queen lifestyle that totally clashes with Phil’s dark and mysterious art nerd persona. And Phil, Phil is so fine with it all he’s practically stood there _glowing_ at the end of the hall when Dan starts a very prompt power walk towards him.

He stops dead in his tracks about a step away and just stares at him. Phil’s smile doesn’t falter.

“You did _not_ ,” he starts, baffled, but doesn’t end his sentence. He’s so overwhelmed he just reaches forward and smashes their faces together, kissing Phil’s giggling lips hard in front of all these people. He pulls back with a gasp. “Did you know I love you so fucking much?”

“I figured,” Phil murmurs, holding him close by his lower back. He leans their foreheads together. “And I kind of love you too, bestest Danny boy. Very, ridiculously much. So shut up and kiss me.”

The next _months_ are spent trying not to talk too much about his overly perfect boyfriend. 

He drastically fails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to comedic genius Agnese because I legit stole a few sentences from her.
> 
> Sorry this was sssoooo long. This chapter alone is the longest fanfic I've written, at least on here. I usually never even work in chapters but I saw two of my favourite fics of all time did per request of others wanting more so I decided to try it too, though I wish I would have had this in the original. Thing is!! I had no idea I’d get any positive feedback on the first chapter whatsoever. So a massive, massive thank you. We're all sinners.  
> Btw, if the image embedding worked in the beginning, I just did some lineart of a pic I found on cockwhoredan's tumblr tbf.
> 
> Pleeeaaasee comment if you liked it, thank yoouu


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